


Equilibrium

by AmbrosiaRush



Series: Nomad Series [5]
Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Angst, Brotherhood, F/M, Family, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Original Character(s), Post Season 5, Romance, Sexual Content, Suspense, Wordcount: Over 200.000, dark humour, dark themes, nefarious plots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-09 01:11:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 65
Words: 274,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmbrosiaRush/pseuds/AmbrosiaRush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lot of money is missing from Diosa. Nero and Jax need someone who can find the money and not stand out. Quinn's youngest daughter is a mathematician with the skill set to find it. Relationships and brotherhood will be put to the test. (Post season 5)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Previous in Series: Years Gone By (Or Fourth Time Lucky, although this was more recently written, events take place pre-series and before the first story in the series)

The early morning sunlight came through the big, slightly open windows of the bedroom and warmed Indiana’s face. The sunshine, gentle breeze that blew the gauzy white curtains and the warmth of the body behind her made her want to just curl up and stay there all day. She wouldn’t, there were things to do. 

Indiana rolled over and threw her arm over the body she laid next to. In no way could it be mistaken with that of her ‘Old Man.’ 

The body had a softness, curves. Skin held the signature scent of black currant and bergamot, familiar and feminine. The dark hair lacked its usual refined style and instead stuck up in all directions. Dark blue eyes opened and a sigh escaped pouty lips. “Why must you wake up so early?”

“Habit,” Indiana responded softly not wanting to break the calm moment with loud words. 

A sleepy smile formed. “Our boys get home today,” Emily said as she rolled onto her back. She stretched her legs out, toes pointed to the end of the bed. 

Indiana smiled just a little as she sat up and threw her legs over the side of the bed. The Nomad charter of the Sons of Anarchy had recently been technically disbanded. There were a few Nomads left who had yet to patch elsewhere. Her father being one of them, and their respective lovers another two. Indiana rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. 

“Are you okay?” Emily asked and a second later Indiana felt the warmth of her friend behind her, sharply angled chin resting on her shoulder. 

The two women had been best friends since they met in the seventh grade. Emily’s family had moved to Red Willow when her father had received a promotion that brought him to a nearby city. Emily’s mother had insisted on a more rural upbringing for their only daughter thinking that it would keep her out of all the dangers of the city. Ironically, Emily ended up with a member of an outlaw motorcycle club. 

Fingers poked into Indiana’s side over her blue cotton sleep t-shirt and shorts. “Indie?” Emily knew all of Indiana’s secrets, not that Indiana hadn’t tried to keep them. Alcohol might as well be truth serum and they were roommates during their time at the University of South Dakota, a peak time for parties. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Indiana replied standing and stretching out up onto her tiptoes, her arms over her head. She tried to blow her bangs from her large blue eyes but it was rather ineffective. “I’m taking the shower.”

“But you’ll take all the hot water,” Emily complained as she flopped back down on her back. 

“Yeah, but you aren’t even going to get your ass out of bed until I put the coffee on.” 

Emily smiled a little. “Am I that predictable?” 

Indiana laughed as she left the room. 

::

Sanctuary served its purpose. The bar and motel kept a steady stream of legitimate income flowing. Nomads were welcome, night or day, they all knew where the keys were hidden if they wanted to get into the dorm rooms and crash. 

Constructed of brick, the bar stood predominantly in the center. Two wings with fresh cream coloured siding came off the bar structure to form the motel rooms, four to the right, and four to the left. The door to the bar featured a large reaper knocker, proclaiming that it fell under the protection of the Sons of Anarchy. 

The bar featured prominently in Indiana’s life. She loved the place as much as she hated it.  
She had played there as a child. Done her homework there as a teenager. Worked there before she went off to University. There were so many memories. Ones she adored. Ones she despised. Some, like Sanctuary, she both loved and hated in equal measure. 

“What are you thinking about?” Emily asked as they sat on the hood of Indiana’s four year old light green Prius that was parked neatly behind Tink’s black Lincoln Navigator. Indiana chose to take her carbon footprint into consideration when car shopping- that and the vehicle embarrassed her badass father to no end. 

Indiana stared at Sanctuary, at the reaper on the door. Today, it seemed ominous. She turned to look at Emily’s open expression. Indiana knew she could tell her friend absolutely anything and that Emily would understand. “I have a University degree and I’m back to waiting tables and bartending at my father’s bar,” Indiana sighed. “I’m working the same job I had since before it was legal that I had one, much less one in a bar.” 

“I have a University degree,” Emily retorted. “I’m doing the same job you are.” 

“But you chose it,” Indiana stressed running a hand through her long blonde hair. “You had options. You chose to come back for Angus.” 

Emily smiled and looked at the princess cut rock on her left ring finger. “Can you blame me?” Emily asked in a blissful voice. 

“Of course not!” Indiana replied. Emily and Angus were great together and she was genuinely happy for her friends. 

Emily had grown her hair out since her teenage years, the longer it grew the more her natural curl took over. The dark locks cascaded over her shoulders, her bangs were wispy and came over to one side. Her curves had filled out and she looked very much like a professional, successful adult in her choice of black skinny jeans, little dark brown booties and a white button up shirt that was tucked in. 

In such clothes, Indiana felt uncomfortable. She had on a pair of boot cut dark blue jeans, black flats with gold embellishments on the toe, a plain white t-shirt and a black blazer. Emily insisted she looked good. Indiana knew her current choice of clothing was simply a mask. 

“You could still get a job in your field,” Emily insisted. 

Indiana didn’t dignify the statement with a response. Especially since she could hear the familiar roar of approaching motorcycles. She gathered herself and slid off the hood of the car. 

Emily smiled excitedly as she stood beside Indiana and hip-checked her. “Come on, smile!” She shook her friend by the shoulders. “They’re back!” 

Indiana did smile and it grew when she saw the first motorcycle. She put her career worries at the back of her mind. The five men who’d been on the run parked as the girls came over. While Emily went immediately to Angus, Indiana went to her father and kissed him on the cheek. “Welcome home, Dad.” 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Quinn responded taking off his helmet and hanging it on the handlebar. “Where’s Tink?” 

Indiana pointed at the bar. “I think she’s waiting for you.” She then walked around and found herself swept up off her feet. She laughed and wrapped her arms around her ‘Old Man.’ 

“Hey Indie,” he said huskily in her ear. “I’ve missed you.” 

She kissed him square on the mouth and smiled. “Missed you too, Mac.” 

::

Happy woke with a croweater tangled around him. Tall, blonde, sexy as hell, exactly his type and not at all what he wanted first thing in the morning. 

“Hey,” he shook her by the shoulder and the woman opened her eyes- grey. “Get out.” 

She obeyed in a punctual manner, getting out of bed, pulling on her dress from the night before, grabbing her heels and walking out of the room, shutting the door behind herself. 

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. He’d been drinking with most of the other Redwood Original boys. The events of the past few weeks had shaken the club to its core. Clay had been arrested, so had Tara. Something had happened with Tig. Juice never seemed settled, more jumpy than usual. Internal drama threatened to pull apart brothers, destroy the club. Happy could see it all happening but couldn’t figure out what to do about it. It was times like this when he missed being a Nomad. Going to whatever charter needed him, or whichever he happened to be around while riding and not being involved in the internal politics and dramas of a charter. That or he’d be at Sanctuary.

He did his best not to think about that place, or the sexy as hell, tall, blonde that he would find there. 

The sunlight streaming through the blinds didn’t help his aching head. He got out of bed and quickly shut them. 

He showered a little slower than usual as the warm water helped the headache and eased the tension in his back. He got dressed and wiped the fog off the mirror. He got half-way through brushing his teeth when his cell started ringing on the bedside table. He walked over, grabbed it and checked the number. He took the phone back to the bathroom and spat in the sink before answering. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah? That’s how you answer the phone, Happy Manu-“

“Ma!” Happy cut his mother off as he rubbed the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh. It was too early for this shit.

“I raised you better than that!” 

“Sorry,” Happy replied. If anyone could make him feel like a complete asshole, it was his mother. God knew that Carina Lowman deserved a better son than he. Despite the hangover, he tried to maintain calm and rational speech. He didn’t like mornings, the hangover didn’t help any. 

“It’s been two weeks since I’ve heard from you,” Carina said. “I worry.” 

He sighed and ran his hand over his face. “Sorry,” he said as soft as his voice ever got. Of all people, his mother didn’t deserve the shit he put her through. Especially not since she was sick, breast cancer, mostly she was holding her own but the chemotherapy was rough. And expensive. He worked hard to pay for the physical care she needed but he often neglected the more emotional side of it all. “How are you?” 

“I’m fine,” she responded. 

He worried him that she lied about how bad she felt. She always tried to protect him. She had been fighting cancer for a full year before he found out. She didn’t want him to worry. He’d been furious she’d kept such a thing from him. 

“How are you?” she asked. 

He hated small talk, but put up with it for his mother. “Fine.” He could practically hear her tapping her foot, waiting for him to say something more. “Club is busy with... stuff.”

“Have you found yourself a nice woman?” 

Happy’s grip on the toothbrush tightened. No matter what, his mother never failed to ask him that question. She happened to be the one person in the world whom he would put up with it for. “Ma. Don’t.”

“I take that as a no. If you don’t find someone special, how am I to have grandbabies?” 

He couldn’t resist, “I don’t need to find someone special to dish out a kid.” 

“Happy Manuel Lowman!” 

Rare laughter escaped him, he shook his head. “Ma, what you want and what I want are clearly two different things.” 

“Then what is it you want?”

He hated when she asked such questions. She never understood his priorities. “I have what I need. I have the club, I have family, my bike is in working order-“ 

“But you need a woman!” 

“Fuck,” he whispered. 

“I heard that!” 

He grimaced at the shrill anger over the line. Cancer or not, the woman had ears like a fucking bat. 

“What about that lovely girl you brought over here?” 

One time. One goddamn time he brought Indiana with him and he still hadn’t heard the end of it. Naturally his mother had loved her. Everyone did. She was just that kind of person. Infectious smile, sympathetic ear, warm heart, warm body, smooth ski-

He shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. “She’s...” In all honesty, he had no idea how to end the sentence. 

Long story short, he drank one too many, dragged Indiana Quinn, daughter of friend and Nomad President Rane Quinn, to one of the dorm rooms inside of Sanctuary and nailed her against the wall. Immediately after, he realized it had been a bad decision. He’d left, patched Tacoma and he supposed she returned back to University. He’d later patch Nomad for a short while but never return to Sanctuary, then patch Redwood Original when his mother got ill, it was where he’d been patched for close to five years. 

In his last memory of Indiana she had tears in her beautiful big blue eyes, the rejection and pain had been his fault. It had to be nearly seven years since then. 

“I bet that girl grew up nice.” 

He sighed. He didn’t want to defend his life choices, and he certainly didn’t wish to discuss Indiana. He found it best to lock the memories of her away. Nothing good came from dwelling on the past. “Ma. I have to go.” 

“Alright,” Carina replied, but she sounded distant, sad. “You be safe now.” 

“Yeah. Bye.” 

“I love you.” 

He shut his eyes. “Love you too, now bye.” He flipped the phone shut and threw it out on the bed where it tumbled right off and hit the floor. “Fuck,” he muttered.


	2. Problems

Tink looked around the bar. The walls needed a fresh coat of paint, and the current dark brown happened to be too gloomy for Tink’s personal tastes. The tables didn’t quite match since they’d been purchased at different times. Some broke under normal wear, more had the extra push of a bar fight. The chairs were odds and ends, many of them having been broken over the years. Flea markets and garage sales were good places to find replacements on the cheap. Neither Quinn nor Tink found any reason to spruce up the biker bar to something fancy or classy that would alienate their clientele.

 

A few locals sat chatting over beer. It used to be that on a Friday night you couldn’t walk a foot in the place without bumping into a member of the Sons of Anarchy but with the Nomads disbanded, Sanctuary was quiet.

 

Harry had patched in New York. Cricket went to Oregon. Dax chose to return to Tacoma where he had patched in many years earlier, although he still ended up at Sanctuary often. Herbert ended up on disability after a particularly horrific crash two years earlier. He ended up having to have his hip replaced, walked with a crutch and would never be able to ride again.

 

Frankie Diamonds, Go-Go and Greg the Peg had all patched Redwood Original, and tarnished the name of the Nomads.

 

Most of the other guys were rarities at Sanctuary, and Tink didn’t remember where they all patched. Frankly, she didn’t care. Her eyes went to Quinn. Him, she cared about, she wondered where he would patch, if he’d patch elsewhere. He turned and smiled at her, her heart still fluttered as it had the first time. She smiled back.

 

“Need three shots of Tequila,” Emily said coming over and placing her tray on the bar. “Slow night.”

 

Tink nodded and grabbed the Tequila bottle and some shot glasses. She poured the first one and then her eyes found Indiana chatting with a couple of the locals. They laughed and she smiled. Tink sighed. “She’s been different since she got back.”

 

Emily didn’t turn, she knew exactly whom Tink referred.  “I thought she’d get back into the swing of things…”

 

“Been back a year,” Tink replied quietly, pouring the second shot. “She isn’t settling. She’s getting antsy.”

 

“She spent years of her life getting her masters in mathematics and she’s waiting tables at her father’s bar, she’s frustrated.”

 

Tink watched as Mac came over to Indiana and put her arm over her shoulders. Indiana sent a smile his way, kissed his cheek and then returned to work. Tink poured the third shot and set them all on Emily’s tray. “How are they doing?”

 

“They?” Emily turned to see Indiana and Mac in close proximity. “Been together three years.” Delivery lacked emotion. Emily knew all of Indiana’s secrets. Including the ones about Mac.

 

“Sometimes she looks happy,” Tink said. She had spent twenty seven years worrying over Indiana, right from the day she’d brought the silent child into the world. It had scared her senseless, the minutes in the ambulance where she couldn’t get the newborn’s airway cleared. While Tink and Indiana didn’t share any biological connection, they were still mother and daughter in every way that counted.  “Occasionally there are spans of days where she seems to be okay,” Tink paused for a moment and sighed, “and then she isn’t.”

 

“This life isn’t easy,” Emily replied.

 

“No, but it has to be worth it,” Tink said resolutely. “I wonder for her, if it is.”

 

Emily pressed her lips together, not wanting to give Tink anything. She gave an uncommitted shrug of her shoulders. “I need to get these to the table.” Emily loaded the tray onto her hand and left the bar.

 

Tink frowned as she watched Indiana move around the bar without the pep of her youth. All a mother ever wanted was for her children to be happy and Indiana didn’t look happy.

 

::

 

“Go home, girls,” Tink said shooing Indiana and Emily away from the bar she stood behind.

  
“You sure?” Indiana asked resting her tray on the bar.

 

“Of course I’m sure,” Tink replied. “It’s two am, only another hour till closing and there are only a handful of locals left, I can deal with them just fine on my own.”

 

“You won’t hear me arguing,” Emily said shooting a sidelong glance at Angus. “See you ladies tomorrow.”

 

“G’night Em,” Indiana replied as she watched her friend walk right into the awaiting arms of Angus. She turned back to Tink. “Are you-“

  
“Yes I’m sure,” Tink said exasperated. “Go home, Indie.”

 

Indiana walked around the bar and untied the apron around her waist. She pulled out the crumpled one dollar bills and handful of quarters that she’d gotten in tips over the course of the night and tossed it into her black studded purse, a gift from Tink. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she kissed her step-mother on the cheek. “Love you.”

 

“Love you too, hon.”

 

Indiana waved to her father across the bar since he sat deep in conversation with someone. He gave her a wave back and she pushed open the big door to Sanctuary, the large reaper knocker clanked as it slammed shut.  The breeze caused her to shiver and fold her arms over her chest as she walked out into the parking lot. The white bulbs that spelt out Sanctuary above the bar cast a faint glow but the burning end of a cigarette helped her find Mac who sat at the picnic table.

 

“Tink let me off early,” she said as she approached. “You ready to go home?”

 

“Yeah,” Mac replied blowing out a stream of smoke. “You wanna ride with me?”

 

She shook her head. “I have my car here, I might need it in the morning. I’ll meet you at the house, okay?”

 

“Yeah,” he replied tossing the cigarette down and smothering it with his boot.

 

::

 

Indiana and Mac rented a small house in a low income neighbourhood. It suited the two just fine as neither spent much time in it. The gravel driveway crunched under the wheels of Indiana’s Prius. She stayed behind the wheel for a moment, her hands resting at ten and two, her forehead at twelve. Her eyes were tired and her feet ached. All she really just wanted a warm bath and to crawl under the blankets.

 

The rumble of Mac’s motorcycle told her that wouldn’t be happening. She pulled her keys from the ignition and stepped out of the car. She hit the door shut with her hips and leaned against the car as Mac turned his Dyna around so he could get out easily in the morning.

 

She smiled at Mac’s dishevelled strawberry blonde short curls, he smiled back at her. He walked a few steps behind her as they walked up to the door. She unlocked the door and just managed to hang her purse up before Mac came up behind her and planted slow, sweet kisses along her neck.

 

“Come on,” he enticed. “Let’s go to bed.”

 

He took her hand in his and led her down the hallway. His lips found hers, his fingers warm against the back of her neck. She pushed his kutte off once they were in the bedroom and she threw it onto the bed. He pushed off her blazer and pulled her shirt over her head. Indiana nipped Mac’s lower lip and pulled back so she could pull his dark blue t-shirt over his head.

 

Exhausted, her eyes kept dropping shut. “Can’t we do this tomorrow?” she asked softly.

 

He groaned. “Really, Indie? I just get back an-“

 

“Forget I asked then,” she snapped back moodily. 

“Indi-“

 

She shushed him and then silenced him completely by pressing her lips against his. Her lips then trailed little kisses along the stubble on his jaw, down his neck and she continued the kisses south, her eyes flicking up to Mac who had a grin on his face.

 

“Good girl,” he murmured running his hand gently through her hair and she suddenly felt sick. She shut her eyes focussed on the here and now.

 

She breathed in through her nose and kissed once more, another breath and she calmed. He still smelt like his preferred shower gel and cologne, she would know it as she bought it. As she unbuttoned his jeans the  clean earthy sent of bay and vanilla hit her like a fist to the gut. Indiana had grown up the daughter of an MC President, she knew the rules. What happens on a run, stays on a run. It didn’t mean it didn’t hurt though, and the hurt made her feel guilty.

 

Standing she took a step back from him. “How about you shower first?”

 

“What? Come on, Baby,” he reached out and gently ran his hands down her sides. She grit her teeth and felt her hands begin to quake.

 

“I can smell her on you,” she barely whispered but he froze. Their eyes stayed locked on one another, neither moving, neither blinking. “Just shower, Mac. I’m not mad. I understand.”

 

He stared a moment longer and then shook his head and walked out.

  
Indiana stared at the doorway. Sometimes, she thought that he wanted her to be angry. At least then she’d show some measure of possessiveness. She blew out a breath and flopped down on the bed.

 

::

 

Nero considered himself to be a business man first, a badass second but he had spent the past three hours at his computer but hadn’t been able to make heads or tails of the numbers. Money was missing. A lot of money.

 

He sat back in his comfortable leather chair and pushed away from the modern metal and glass desk. He paced the length of his office but couldn’t get his mind around it. He grabbed his jacket and walked out, remembering to lock the door to his office behind him.

  
The new Diosa building had class, he liked it. The women did their jobs, most of them had regulars and that kept the money steady… until it wasn’t. Other than the ‘working girls’ he employed two women who cleaned the building, a saucy lesbian lawyer who made sure all his papers were in order, and three guys who regularly kept up the accounts. He couldn’t see anyone with access to the accounts screwing him over. They were too smart. He kept them well paid. He couldn’t see a reason for any of them to risk skimming.

 

One of his girls sat on the couch, leaning just slightly into the man she entertained. The man appeared pleased with the attention and Nero continued. One of the guys from his crew, Primo leaned against the wall in such a way he almost blended in with the scenery. His eyes constantly scanned the area, watching the girls, and making sure they were safe. Men from his crew were on constant rotation as bodyguards, it made for good, legitimate income.

 

Primo suddenly laughed and shook his head before he leaned over the front desk where Lyla sat. He pointed at something on the desk and she flushed and shook her head.

 

“I’m going blind,” Lyla said and turned upon hearing Nero’s approaching steps. “Are you heading out for the evening?”

 

“Yeah,” Nero responded. “Everything cool here?”

 

Lyla grimaced. “Actually, that _ex-client_ of Irina’s called.”

 

“Joshua Manning?” Nero asked for clarification but found his anger start to simmer.

 

“Yes,” Lyla replied pushing back some of her long blonde curls.

 

“Son of a bitch,” Nero muttered. “What did he say?”

  
“Requested Irina,” Lyla responded before she shrugged her bare shoulders, her strapless powder blue dress putting a modest amount of alabaster skin on display. “I informed him that she was busy and that he should call back later… figured by then I could have a word with you about it.”

 

“This a problem?” Primo asked looking at Nero as he crossed his arms over his chest.

 

Nero weighed the pros and cons; sending some of the guys to make a statement out of Joshua Manning could have repercussions but allowing the delusional narcissist to keep thinking that Irina was in some way ‘his’ would be dangerous to the woman as well as the business.

 

“Might be,” Nero responded. He’d wait a little while, see what happened. “If he calls back, transfer the call to my office, if I’m not here, give him my number,” he told Lyla who nodded. He turned once again to Primo. “Make sure Irina has a ride home.”

 

“I will,” Primo promised. He watched Nero walk out before he leaned back against the wall again and his eyes returned to the pretty blonde behind the desk. “What do you think that was about?”

 

Lyla looked up and shrugged. “What was what about?”

 

“He’s distracted,” Primo responded, but decided it would be best not to comment further.

 

“He’s probably going to see Gemma,” Lyla said, the hopeless romantic inside of her hoped for the best for Nero. She genuinely liked her boss and wanted the best for him. He’d helped her a lot during her time at Diosa, and after the incident where she had been shot in the leg, he gave her a nice cushy job working the desks booking appointments.

 

Primo didn’t agree with Lyla’s presumption, but he didn’t see the point in worrying her. “Yeah, that’s probably it.”


	3. Missing Money

Despite growing up working early morning shifts at Teller-Morrow, Jax still didn't want to get up at five am. He didn't have a choice though, Thomas screamed and cried, the noise woke up Abel. Jax rubbed his eyes and looked to the empty space next to him where Tara should be. His heart twisted. From the moment she had walked into his life, she'd been it for him, his first love, his only true love, the real mother of his children.

"Dad," Abel said from the doorway in his Spiderman pajamas. "Tommy's crying."

"I know," Jax said forcing himself from bed. "I'm coming."

"Dad," Abel said following his father down the hallway and into the nursery. "Where did Mom go?"

"Away," Jax replied vaguely. He had no idea how to explain the situation to his young son.

"When is she coming back?" Abel asked, his eyes on the floor.

"I don't know," Jax snapped as he picked up Thomas from the crib.

He quickly changed his youngest son's diaper and then looked over at the quiet Abel who hadn't moved. He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath.

Jax picked Thomas up and settled the young boy on his hip before approaching Abel and kneeling down before his son. "Hey. Things are tough right now, but I'll figure it out, okay?"

"And Mommy will be home?"

"Yeah," Jax agreed touching his forehead to his sons. "We'll be a whole family again."

Abel gave a tentative smile. "Can we have Cheerios?"

He could no longer imagine a time where he would be able to let go of his son as he had in Belfast. He would be forever grateful for the circumstances that had brought his eldest son back to him. "Cheerios it is."

Jax carried Thomas, Abel trailed a few feet behind as he walked to the kitchen. He got Thomas settled in the high chair and poured Abel a bowl of Cheerios. The knock at the door disrupted his morning and he walked over to answer it. He checked the peephole before opening the door. "Nero."

"Jax," the older man gave his head a nod. Having a son of his own, Nero figured that Jax would be up at the hour, besides, Nero didn't want to give this problem room to breathe. "You have a minute?"

"Yeah, sure," Jax took a step back and him in. "What is this about?"

"Look, I know you have a lot on your plate right now, I respect that but as your business partner I think there is something you need to know about."

Jax sighed. There never seemed to be an end to the crap that piled up in front of him. "It's not something I'm going to like, is it?"

"I don't know, man," Nero replied with a grin. "Sometimes I think you like trouble."

Jax shook his head knowing now for certain that another problem was about to be set down at his feet. The legitimate business wasn't supposed to create more problems, it was supposed to lessen his burden creating quick, clean cash. He didn't blame Nero for coming though, in fact he appreciated it. The Sons of Anarchy were partnered in with Diosa, a problem for Diosa is a problem for all of them. "Let's hear it."

Nero blew out a breath. "Someone skimmed half a million at Diosa."

"Shit," Jax whispered angrily.

::

The men at the table were all fuming after Jax let them know why Nero sat in church with them. There were curses, muttering, and fists slammed against the redwood table. The room had an electric charge of pent up aggression.

"How could _that much_ go missing?" Tig asked, his voice low and angry.

Happy sat back in his chair, anger simmering. No one ripped off the Sons and got away with it. Diosa created legitimate income, something all the Sons needed. It also created a bond between crews. The Sons had burned some bridges as of late and needed all the friends they could get.

"This has been happening for a while," Nero replied appearing comfortable at the table, his chair across from Jax's. "It's been skimmed over time."

"You have any idea who it is?" Chibs asked in a slow, serious manner as he leaned on one elbow on the table. The Scot's dark eyes were on Nero and Jax knew after Galen's threat _'this will affect the Sons, on both sides of the ocean,'_ that Chibs was already edgy.

"No," Nero replied. "That's the biggest problem. I keep my employees paid well, none of them seem to be in any kind of trouble that would indicate their need for a big haul."

"Could it be getting syphoned out externally?" Juice asked. He felt the weight of the looks from his brothers and tried not to cower under them. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt comfortable in his kutte, or the last time he felt at ease around his fellow Sons.

"The account is pretty tight," Nero responded with a shrug. "I guess it could be possible."

"But unlikely?" Jax asked.

"I'd say it's internal, but I'm too close to this," Nero admitted feeling slightly out of sorts sitting at the table with the Sons of Anarchy crew. "These are people I picked, people I trust. Besides, I want to catch whoever is doing this. If I start snooping and asking questions-"

"Whoever it is, is going to shut down," Bobby said with a nod. Despite the fact that he had removed his Vice President badge, he still sat at the table to Jax's left.

"And then we don't get our money back," Nero finished. "That's why I came to you, Jax. How do we want to handle this?"

Jax ran his hand over his hair as he mulled over the problem. He ignored the chatter of his belligerent brothers. Club problems never seemed to stop piling up. He gave his head a shake. Bobby and Chucky were both good with numbers, but both were obviously affiliated with SAMCRO.

"We need someone who isn't going to stick out," Jax said, thinking out loud. "We put a Son or well-known affiliate in and whoever this is going to go into hiding." Jax shook his head. "I'll make some calls to other charters, see what I can come up with."

Nero nodded his consent and Jax banged the gavel dismissing church.

::

Quinn stood in the back room doing the order for Sanctuary. When the door opened behind him, he didn't even have to look to know that Tink had walked in. Her stilettos announced her before she had even gotten to the door. "I honestly don't know how you walk around in those all day," he said turning. He gave his wife a look over, she wore a skin tight black dress with lace arms, and her legs put women half her age to shame.

Dark blue eyes sparkled as she looked up at him with a big smile. "They make my ass look fantastic."

"Your ass always looks fantastic," Quinn replied and she laughed. "Trust me," he continued, "I spend a good amount of time studying it."

Tink swatted his arm playfully. "Are you almost done with the order?"

"Yeah, and with plenty of time to spare," he set the clipboard down on a case of beer and took a step closer to his wife.

"Oh no you don't!" Tink said taking a step back and poking him in the chest. Despite how serious she sounded, her eyes were light and spirited. "You need to get that order in."

Quinn just smiled and kept taking steps forward. For each of his steps, Tink took one back until her shoulders hit the wall. A rather impish grin came upon her face.

"You're terrible at denying me," he commented giving her jaw length black hair a little tug.

"I'm such a slut," Tink laughed as she threw her arms around his neck.

His thumb brushed along her jawline and her breath hitched. He bent to kiss her but paused when his phone started ringing obnoxiously in his pocket. "Fuck," he muttered. He straightened out and pulled out his phone noticing the little pout on Tink's face. He gave her a quick kiss and then pulled her close as he flipped the phone open. "Yeah?"

" _It's Jax."_

"How's it going, brother?"

" _We have a little problem at Diosa,"_ Jax's voice sounded stressed, and if even half the stuff Quinn had heard through the grapevine was true, he couldn't blame the man.

Quinn kissed Tink on the top of the head as he listened to the problem and she stared up at him with inquisitive eyes. Quinn nodded as Jax finished.

"That's a lot of money," Quinn noted.

" _We need to find out who it is or we aren't going to see any of it again. We need someone who isn't going to be easily pegged,"_ Jax said. _"Nero and I were thinking a woman. A new girl working at Diosa isn't something that would throw up any red flags."_

Quinn shifted from one foot to the other and blew out a breath. There were moments where club loyalty butted heads with loyalties of another kind. Part of him wanted to keep his mouth shut about a potential solution but the reaper on his back demanded his loyalty. "I know someone but you have to make damn sure that she's protected."

" _Diosa has bodyguards around the clock. I'll set up a safe house for your girl to stay at_."

"Let me talk to her first," Quinn said. "I'll call you back before the end of the day." He flipped his phone shut and stared at it a second before shoving it back into the pocket of his jeans.

Tink stared up at her husband like she might be able to find the truth on his face. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," he responded distractedly, more out of habit than honesty. "Everything's fine."

::

Indiana stopped at the end of the dead end road and watched the logging trucks. A loud crack echoed as a tree gave way and fell heavily to the ground. Soon enough the road would be extended, houses would be built, Red Willow would grow. The changes in the town bothered her, the logging seemed like a desecration.

She pined for the days of her youth, days before her naivety had given way to brutal honest world truths. Truth being that her years upon years of schooling and a master's degree didn't matter at all. Her affiliation to Sons of Anarchy overshadowed her intelligence, her passion, her skill.

"Jesus," Emily panted as she walked up beside Indiana. "How do you do that?" Emily put her hands on her trembling knees and tried to catch her breath.

"I run every day and didn't take up smoking," Indiana replied shooting a higher-than-thou look at her friend.

Emily straightened and put her hands on her hips as she looked up to the cloudless sky. "I might not run _every_ day but I get a _workout_ when I don't," she smirked and Indiana rolled her eyes in response. "And yeah, the smoking might have been a bad idea, but all the guys do it and I was an ex-smoker, you have no idea how hard it is to be an ex-smoker and watch other people smoke."

"You're right, I don't," Indiana replied staring out at the loggers once again.

The two women stood side by side for a moment. Emily turned to Indiana and studied her profile. "You want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"Whatever is bothering you," Emily replied turning to fully face Indiana. "Don't tell me it's nothing either. I'm a professional."

Indiana huffed out an annoyed breath. Emily had gone to the same university as Indiana, got an undergraduate in psychology, specialized in third year and became a sex therapist. She worked at the bar because she enjoyed it and made great tips over the weekend. Mondays thru Thursdays she worked as a therapist at the clinic on Rose Street.

"It was easier being with Mac when I was at school," Indiana admitted still staring at the trees. "We didn't see each other all that often. We didn't live together." She shifted slightly, ashamed to admit such things.

"You're the one who wanted to be an 'Old Lady' instead of 'Quinn's daughter,'" Emily pointed out matter-of-factly.

Indiana nodded. Being 'Quinn's kid' got old quick. She wanted to be seen as older, wiser, and more capable. Being an 'Old Lady,' she got more respect, both from the guys and from the women. She stepped up in the women of the MC hierarchy. She never wanted to be one of those women who were just with a man for a title, for power, and it wasn't just that. She liked Mac well enough, he was handsome, funny and loyal, a fully patched member who already had the respect of her nearest and dearest. They hung out a lot, he came to visit while she was at school, and he'd chat with her over the phone when she was lonely or homesick.

"If you don't tell me what the problem is, I can't help you," Emily said softly, breaking through Indiana's thoughts. "You guys get along well."

"I love Mac," Indiana defended, her tone sharp and dangerous.

Emily's eyes softened. "I know you do." A 'but' hung unspoken between them. She waited, hoping that Indiana would continue but the other woman stayed silent. She pressed her lips together but had never been particularly patient. Figuring from previous conversations with the looser lipped drunken Indiana she ventured a guess. "Is it still… the sex?"

Indiana shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "It's fine."

Emily's dark blue eyes rolled. "Liar. If you don't tell-"

"I'm not discussi-"

"He can't read your mi-"

"I am not talking about this!"

"Well you should!" Emily shouted back in frustration.

The two women faced each other. Emily huffed out a sigh and Indiana's big eyes narrowed. "It's fine. I'm fine. My life is fine," Indiana said through clenched teeth. "Stop trying to use me as your guinea pig."

"I used you for my guinea pig when we were at school," Emily replied frostily. "You were a hell of a lot more open when you were liquored up on Tequila."

Indiana threw up her hands in an agitated fashion. "What does it matter to you?"

"You're my best friend, Indie," Emily said softly. "It pains me to see you like this. You've been in love with-"

"Drop it," Indiana practically growled. "I was a stupid kid who thought her heart was a play thing, something to be given out, and entrusted with others _. I was foolish_. I'm with Mac. I love Mac," she said near forcefully as if trying to make Emily believe her words. "Leave it alone, Em."

Emily watched as Indiana turned on her heel and fell into an easy jog for a few paces before she went full into a run. Emily blew out a breath and wished for a cigarette as she started walking back.


	4. Redeal

Fresh out of the shower, Indiana braided her long blonde hair and felt guilty over how she had spoken to Emily. Her friend had only been trying to help. Emily always tried to fix things but Indiana liked to think her life didn’t need fixing, she tried very hard on a daily basis to convince herself that what she had was enough, that her life was enough. She knew her life hadn’t worked out the way she had imagined, but she tried to make the best of it. Some days it all became too much and she would rant or rage or simply push everyone away and brood. She kept trying to fit the puzzle pieces of her life together but the picture never became clear. 

Dressed in a pair of jeans and a button up white blouse, she brushed on some mascara. She heard the door open, footsteps and two male voices. She threw the mascara tube back into the drawer and shut it before she walked down the hall. The closer she got the more clear the voices became, familiar and easily recognized she smiled as she entered the living room. 

“Hi Dad,” Indiana greeted. 

“Hey Indie,” Quinn replied as he pulled his daughter in for a hug. “How was your run?” 

“Good.” She enjoyed the comfort that her father always brought her. She inhaled the familiar scent of Original Old Spice and leather. She smiled up at him. “Want a water?”

“Sure,” he answered letting her go. 

She turned and kissed Mac on the cheek. “You want one too?” 

“Na, I’m good.” 

She led the way to the kitchen and both Mac and her father followed. The kitchen, like the rest of the house, had an old style to it. The cupboards were white, plain, silver knobs. The oak kitchen table only sat four with its mismatched chairs. 

“I need to talk to you two,” Quinn said pulling out a chair at the small table. 

Indiana froze for a second and then opened the fridge door. “What about?” She pulled out two waters and placed one in front of her father. Her mind always went to the worse case scenarios, that someone had died, or someone would be spending the foreseeable future in lockup. Quinn gestured to a chair and she took it as a sign to take a seat. 

“I got a call this morning,” Quinn started as he opened the water bottle. “President of the Redwood Originals.” 

“What did he want?” Mac asked curiously. 

“Someone is skimming in a legit side business they’re involved with,” Quinn replied. “He wants to put someone in to work the numbers, figure out who it is that’s stealing the money, discretely. He’s reaching out, no one who wears a patch and affiliates that wouldn’t be well known in the area.” He looked directly at his daughter.

Indiana swallowed hard. “Me?” 

“Yeah,” Quinn replied not sounding happy about it. “You.” She nodded in understanding and fiddled with the cap on her water. “You don’t have to agree to this, Indie.” 

She looked up at her father and could see the worry in his eyes. She then then looked over to Mac. “You said you wanted to check out Charming, see if you wanted to patch there,” she looked back down at her water bottle. “This might be a good thing.” 

“Working for the clu-“

“Clubs legitimate business,” Indiana cut her father off. “Calm down Dad, it’s not like I’m going to be hijacking trucks.” 

Quinn shot his daughter a dry look. No business with the Sons were safe. Hell, even Sanctuary wasn’t as safe as he would like it to be, the old walls had witnessed its fair share of violence. He cared for all three of his daughters, but in different ways. He hadn’t been there for Brooklyn when she had been growing up, and really only knew her as an adult. Ink on the birth certificate hadn’t even dried for Sidney before he left. With Indiana, he had to learn to be a father, a real one. She had depended on him, he was the only parent she had left. He still thanked God for Tink, there were days when he wasn’t sure he could have raised the child without her. 

“So what exactly does she have to do?” Mac asked sitting back comfortably in the old styled, white kitchen chair. 

Quinn shrugged his broad shoulders. “Details were pretty vague. Jackson Teller, the President, would be able to fill you both in.” 

“But we’d have to commit to helping first,” Indiana mused as she played with the cap of her water bottle. “I’ll do it.” 

“Indie, you should think about this,” Quinn warned. Part of him wanted his daughter to be as loyal to the reaper as he is, the other part was terrified that that was exactly the case. “It’s a big decision,” Quinn tried to convince his youngest daughter. “It isn’t required of you. They could find someone else.” 

Indiana shook her head. “Not someone smarter, and no one more loyal.” Indiana’s big blue eyes were clear and determined when she looked over at her father. “I’ll work the numbers. I’ll figure it out.” 

Mac smiled over at Indiana. “That’s my girl,” he smiled proudly and Indiana shot him an appreciative smile in return. “I’ll ride down with you,” Mac told her. “I’ll check Charming out, feel out the guys in the mother charter. I reckon they still aren’t too cool with Nomads after that shit Go-Go, Greg and Frankie pulled.” 

Indiana’s eyes slipped from Mac over to her father who had tensed angrily at the mention of the dishonoured Nomad brothers. She didn’t blame her father for being angry. These were men he’d known, trusted. Indiana had grown up around these men, she hadn’t spent a lot of time with Greg or Go-Go but Frankie had been like an annoying uncle who had playfully teased her, she had been fond of him and now thinking about any of those three Nomads made her skin crawl. Their betrayal had shaken her to her core. If those brothers who had been Sons for so long could flip, what other snakes laid in their midst?

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Indiana told Mac. “I could go on my own. Likely I’ll be shacking up in a hotel if they don’t want patches or well-known associates. We probably won’t see much of each other.” 

“There aren’t many charters in California,” Mac reasoned calmly. “I know you want to stay close to home.” 

Indiana smiled at that. Mac had a nomadic heart. He could live anywhere. Indiana though, while she enjoyed going to South Dakota for school, she had roots that had pushed deep and been covered in concrete. She wasn’t about to leave California, she couldn’t bear to be that far from her family for so long again. 

“So, you’ll check out the mother charter and I’ll check out…” she frowned and looked at her father. “Did he say what business it was?” 

Quinn cringed. “Diosa.” 

“Which is?” Indiana raised an eyebrow in question.

“Escorts,” Quinn replied quickly, uncomfortable with the line of conversation with his daughter. 

Indiana nodded solemnly. She didn’t have any intention of continuing that line of conversation with her father. She shifted equally uncomfortable. “Alright. When will I be expected to be there?” 

“As soon as possible. I need to call to confirm.” Quinn felt unsettled, he didn’t like the idea of his daughter going to work in a brothel, even if she’d only be focused on the numbers. The kind of money stolen would make a man do desperate things. Desperate men were dangerous and violent. He didn’t want his youngest daughter caught up in the middle. “Jackson set up a safe house for you, he promises protection.” He could no longer tell if he was trying to reassure Indiana, or himself. 

“But I’m not supposed to look like an affiliate,” Indiana replied with a raised eyebrow. 

“Never said it would be a Son watching over you,” Quinn countered. 

She nodded. “I can be packed and ready to go in an hour.” 

“Tomorrow will be soon enough,” Quinn argued. “They’ll need to get shit in order before you get there any way. Pack up, say your goodbyes, take tonight and leave in the morning.” 

“What about my shifts?” 

“I’ll deal with it,” Quinn replied. He thought briefly about calling his eldest daughter, Brooklyn. She once worked at the bar, knew how to handle the patrons, the till, the tabs and the drink. His eldest daughter had also walked out of Sanctuary five years ago. She’d had a fight with her boyfriend at the time, Mark, a fellow Son. Over time, she had grown to resent the club and the men in it. He couldn’t recall the breaking point, only that she’d told him she hated him right before she stormed out and never looked back. He had his former Intelligence Officer, Dax, keep tabs on her. She had married a grocery store manager two years ago, and a year ago gave birth to a baby boy. 

Indiana nodded as she unscrewed and then screwed back on the cap to her water. “Okay.” Nerves were starting to flutter inside of her, but she relished them and the upcoming challenge. 

Quinn nodded in return. “Good. I’ll leave you two to it. Make sure to stop in before you go. You know how Tink gets.” 

Indiana smiled and shook her head slightly. She did know how Tink could get. She also knew her father would be disappointed if she didn’t stop in before the long drive to Charming. “I will. Promise.” 

Quinn stood, kissed his daughter on the top of the head and walked out of the kitchen leaving Mac and Indiana alone. 

“You look excited,” Mac commented. 

“Do I?” Indiana replied with a bit of a smirk. “Maybe I am. It will be interesting to be in Charming for a while. Working in a brothel,” she laughed. “Oh the things you think you’ll never say.” 

Mac smiled and shook his head. He took her hand in his hand and ran his thumb over her knuckles. “You’re looking forward to the challenge, to the job. New opportunity. I know you wanted to spread your wings away from the club, but maybe your calling is within it.” 

Logic told her that he only meant to comfort, but it felt like sandpaper against her soul. She wanted to be something, someone, but her affiliation with the club made it impossible for her to stand without them. Her connection to the club had become her cage, she felt like a bird with her wings clipped. The desire and instinct to fly was there, but outside factors kept her trapped. She would simply have to make the best of it. 

“I guess I should get packing.” 

::

“Charming?” Emily’s mouth dropped a bit, a fry falling from her fingertips. “For how long?” 

Indiana shrugged as she stirred her tea. “I’m not really sure, until I can untangle the finances at least. Mac is checking out the area, the charter so it might be permanent.” 

Chatter at nearby tables kept the silence from becoming to overbearing. The café they sat in was one of the few in Red Willow, and easily the girls’ favourite. Indiana loved the pastries, and Emily couldn’t get enough of their spicy fries. 

Emily blew out a shocked breath, her mind trying to catch up. “You might be leaving,” she said rather dazed. 

“I’ll visit, obviously, I’ll visit,” Indiana quickly said. 

“Yeah, but it won’t be the same,” Emily whined slightly, her lips pressed together tightly as she tried not to be childish about her friend’s decision. They had been so close for so long and they relied on one another when their men were gone. “I won’t get to see you every day.” 

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” Indiana replied with a shrug. “Or that’s what I keep telling myself. We might only be there a few weeks, and if it’s longer, we’ll deal with it.” 

Emily grinned. “You make us sound like a couple.” 

“We’re kind of a package deal,” Indiana said with a smile. 

“This is true,” Emily said returning to her plate of spicy fries. “So, you’re going to be set up with a place of your own?” 

Indiana nodded. “Yeah, I don’t know where, or what I’ll be living in but it’ll be arranged for me.” 

“And there will be protection right?” Emily asked, her dark blue eyes wells of worry. “I mean, they couldn’t ask this of you without ensuring you’d be looked after, right?” 

“I guess they’re involved with anther crew that is linked to Diosa,” she said quietly despite the fact that no one had paid them any attention. “I suspect it’s the other crew that will be keeping tabs on me since I can’t look like an affiliate of the Sons,” she said bitterly. “Twenty seven years old, still being babysat.”

“Well, I for one am glad,” Emily replied seriously. “Thieves don’t like getting caught, Indie. Whoever it is, isn’t going to want you to find out who they are or where the money is.” 

“Then I’ll just have to be discrete, that’s the entire point of sending a woman to a brothel after all,” Indiana replied. 

“So… do they want you to pretend to be one of the girls?” 

Honestly, Indiana hadn’t thought about it, and her father didn’t have too many details for her to work with. She shook her head. “I doubt it, my father would have shut the Redwood President down if he thought I was going to be some escort.” 

“You said so yourself that the details were vague,” Emily argued. 

Indiana frowned and stole one of Emily’s fries. “I guess I will see when I get there.” 

“Are you nervous?”

Fiddling with the end of her braid, Indiana considered the question. “A little,” she admitted. Her big blue eyes flicking up to meet Emily’s. “I’m also really excited though, I think this will be good for me. Working with numbers again, and not just Sanctuary’s.” 

“So you’re okay with working for the club?” Emily asked skeptically before tossing another spicy fry in her mouth. 

Indiana shrugged. “It’s the only place where my affiliation is a bonus instead of that red strike.” 

Emily reached across the table and took Indiana’s hand. “You know I’ll only be one phone call away if you need someone.” She wondered if the time alone and space from Red Willow would give her friend some much needed clarity. 

“I know,” Indiana replied with a small but grateful smile. 

“I love you to tits.” 

Indiana howled in laughter and Emily was right behind her. It was an inside joke between the two. Indiana had written ‘I love you to bits’ in Emily’s twenty-first birthday card but Emily had deciphered the notoriously messy writing as ‘I love you to tits’ which is what they had told each other ever since. 

Indiana wiped away some joyful tears that quite nearly became sorrowful. “I’m really going to miss you, Em.” 

Emily cast Indiana a smile. “A phone call away,” she repeated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	5. Life Goes On

Ally Lowen sat behind her desk and had stacks of paper nearly up to her eyeballs. She cursed colourfully. Standing she turned to look out the window. It appeared to be a beautiful afternoon but she had spent the entire day trying to untwist the nightmare that was Tara Knowles-Teller's case. Circumstantial evidence, the police had nothing, nothing but circumstantial evidence and the push of an ex-US Marshal.

She knew that by the end of the next day she would have Tara out. It didn't sit well with her though. Why had the ex-US Marshal pushed for the police to bring her in? She could be cleared entirely, what purpose would that serve him?

She felt for Tara, who currently resided in a women's low security facility. Ally had visited her clients enough times to see the state in which inmates lived. She didn't imagine that the doctor would handle it as well as she had. Ally figured she should have given Tara more credit, still, some of the most hardened people felt the shift that prison life- no matter how short a sentence- could bring. She worried over Tara's two sons, over Jax.

Her entire livelihood revolved around the Sons of Anarchy. They were good clients, and Jax always treated her well. Occasionally he got snippy, but she understood. She rarely met clients under good circumstances. Sometimes she wondered where she would be had she not brushed shoulders with Tom Rosen while she'd been a law student struggling to make ends meet. She quite nearly dropped out of law school, her finances becoming so bad. Rosen had seen potential, he was a new lawyer himself, but sharp as a tack and vicious in a court battle.

Rosen had introduced her to the Sons and she had refused to cower under them despite the initial fear that had gripped her. For her loyalty, they would pay her way through school, and true to their word they had. She got the impression that they had paid for Rosen's education as well. In any case, the Sons had bought their loyalties. Men like them always needed lawyers and legal counsel, both were kept busy and she had enough work from them alone to pay her bills.

She would remain loyal to the Sons, and she fell under their protection if anything were to happen. She liked that, the sense that she was part of something more.

With a deep breath she looked back to her desk. Yes, she would have Tara out. She picked up the information she had gotten on one ex-US Marshal Lee Toric and wondered once again why he had pushed to have Tara picked up. Deciding that she needed to focus on one thing at a time, she put the information sheet in her desk drawer and returned to her paperwork for Tara's release.

::

Indiana walked into her parent's house without bothering to knock. "Hello?" she called out before removing her flats.

"In the kitchen," Tink's voice floated through the house along with the scents of spaghetti. Despite catching a late lunch and having desert at the café with Emily, Indiana's stomach rumbled.

Indiana felt apprehensive as she walked into the kitchen. She watched Tink dance a little in place to some song on the radio as she stirred the spaghetti sauce and it killed the apprehension and her shoulders sagged suddenly free of the tension she hadn't even realized she'd had. "Hey Tink," Indiana kissed her step-mother on the cheek as her hand blindly went into the bowl of grated cheese.

"Hey Indie," Tink replied putting the lid on the spaghetti sauce before turning her piercing blues on the young woman. "Get out of the cheese!" Indiana quickly put the grated marble cheese in her mouth and chewed with a grin. Tink shook her head. "Are you staying for dinner? Where's Mac?"

"Mac's at the house," Indiana replied before walking to the fridge, she found a water bottle and cracked the top as she hip-checked the fridge closed. "And I wish I could stay," she replied lifting the lid to the simmering sauce and inhaling deeply. "Unfortunately, I haven't even begun to pack and I want to get an early start to the day tomorrow."

"Early to bed, early to rise," Tink said with a nod. "So, Charming?"

"Yep," Indiana replied as she leaned her back against the counter and watched Tink spread the cheese over the garlic bread.

Tink remained quiet for a moment before she sighed. "I sure am going to miss you."

Indiana felt her eyes well up and she blinked quickly trying to clear her vision. "I'll miss you too, Mom."

Tink wiped her hands on a tea towel before she turned to Indiana. Their height difference became even more exaggerated since Tink wasn't wearing heels for once. Tink's hand's rested on Indiana's shoulders as she looked up at her step-daughter. "You take care of yourself."

Indiana nodded sharply. "I will."

"You're taking your gun," Quinn said from the doorway of the kitchen, startling both women.

"Jesus, Rane!" Tink cursed quietly and shook her head. It constantly surprised her that her husband could be so quiet, his stature gave no indication of his stealth.

"Dad," Indiana's eyes narrowed. "I don't need a gun."

Quinn crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at his daughter resolutely. "You're taking the gun."

Indiana had to bite her tongue to keep from whining. She took a deep breath. "Da-"

"You're taking the gun," Quinn repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Alright, I will," Indiana said putting her hands up in defense.

"You better have it on you too," Quinn said, eyeing his daughter looking for any indication that she might be lying to him. "I'll make sure Jax checks."

Indiana felt her temper rise and a second later Tink's hand rubbed soothing circles on her back. "You should get packing, Honey."

"Yeah," Indiana nodded before she kissed Tink on the cheek. "I'll talk to you soon."

She walked over to her father and despite her anger, she hugged him tightly. "I'll miss you, Daddy," she said softly. "And please don't embarrass me by having Jax check for my gun," she said drawing back a bit. She shifted from one foot to the other. "I promise I'll carry it in my bag."

Knowing his daughter would be good to her word, Quinn nodded. "Alright. Please, be careful. If you feel uncomfortable, if you want out, you call me."

Indiana gave a slight nod.

"I mean it," Quinn said, his hands squeezing his daughter's shoulders lightly.

"I know," she said slightly agitated. "I'll be fine. You don't have to worry about me so much, Dad. I'm old enough to look after myself."

"You'll always be my little girl."

She knew that, and it was a double edged sword. As much as she loved her father, she always ended up lost under his shadow. No matter where she went, or who she was with, first and foremost she was Rane Quinn's daughter.

"I love you," he kissed her forehead.

Resignedly, she sighed. "I love you too."

::

Mac had the smaller of their two suitcases. He had packed his clothes, a spare gun, a box of bullets and a knife. Mac had gone to get a drink with Angus before dinner, and Indiana had finished off her packing. Indiana's suitcase just about burst at the seams with clothing, makeup and a few of her accounting books just in case she needed a reference.

Indiana stood across from the window and counted the wood panels. Six in, she dropped to her knees and pried the loose floorboard up. Mac didn't know about her stash. She'd still had one at her father's too. She pulled out the tin box that once held chocolates and popped the top off. From the box, she pulled out her pearl handled Colt revolver. Her father knew a guy who customized guns, and while it looked antique it had been brand new when she'd gotten it for her sixteenth birthday.

She flipped open the chamber, six empty slots. With a flick of her wrist the chamber slid back into place and she put the gun into her purse along with the box of bullets from the tin. She pulled out the wad of cash she kept stashed there too, five grand in twenties. Unsure, she held it in her hands. "Just in case," she said to herself before putting it in her purse although she hoped there didn't come a reason to blow that kind of money while in Charming. She put the tin back and shoved the wood plank back into place.

::

"Ma?" Kerrianne walked into the house after her day working with Trinity at Ashby's Provisions. She'd finished school and still toyed with the thought of college or university, but honestly she felt a terrible sense of limbo. She kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, her life had never been clean, never been easy. Despite phone conversations with her Da once a week, and Jimmy O being dead she still had this uneasy sense that wouldn't settle despite two years passing.

Silence greeted her. She looked out the window, her mother's car still sat in the driveway. "Ma?" she called a little louder while she made her way to the kitchen. She kept her back to the wall as she bent low and opened the lower cupboard, she took the lid off the medium sized pot and pulled out a Glock. She checked the clip like her father had taught her, slid it smoothly back into place.

On a deep breath she raised the gun. She didn't feel comfortable with it, but she felt marginally safer. She heard a door open, faint music following it and then footsteps. She peered down the hallway, keeping her back against the doorframe of the kitchen. "Ma!" she shouted.

"Yeah, Kerri?" Her mother replied.

Kerrianne huffed out a breath and cursed the unrelenting paranoia she felt. "What the bloody hell are you doing? Sounds like you're having a party in your bedroom!"

"Like you're one to talk," Fiona shouted back. "I was listening to some music while I soaked in the tub, is that a crime?"

Shaking her head, Kerrianne flicked the safety back on the Glock and returned it to the pot, making sure to replace the lid when she had finished.

::

Indiana had just finished making herself a grilled cheese sandwich when Mac returned. "You want one?" she asked when he came into the kitchen.

"Na, I ate a bit at the bar," Mac replied as he went to the fridge and grabbed a beer. He popped off the top and threw it in the trash before taking a swig. "Did you see Tink?"

"Yeah," Indiana replied taking a bite of her late dinner.

He looked her up and down with a grin. "Are you packed?"

"Yeah." Indiana abandoned her sandwich to fetch a drink from the fridge. She filled her glass with orange juice and brought it back to the table with her. She ate her supper slowly, her heart hammering in her chest. She drank the rest of her juice and brought the dishes to the sink.

Mac's hand moved over her hips, his chest pressed against her back. "You smell nice," he commented. His hands were light, nimble and gentle as they roamed over her body. He turned her around and lifted her up so she sat on the countertop. His lips claimed hers, soft and slow but she wanted the burn of stubble, needed the haste of desperation. She gripped the countertop tightly in effort to stop the trembling of her hands.

His lips moved to her neck and terrifying sweet-nothings escaped his lips. "God, you're beautiful," he whispered. Her heart hammered in her chest as panic swept through her. She tried desperately to reason with herself, but she didn't believe the fear was rational. She shut her eyes tightly and allowed herself to go on auto-pilot.

::

Happy watched the clock on the wall. He had ten more minutes on his shift at Diosa. The money helped a lot, Nero paid well. The girls made for a good view. Rarely did anything come up, but when it did it could be easily dealt with. Easy, clean money. Money that went missing. He hoped that whoever Jax had managed to get to do the numbers could figure out the mess. The Sons had been ripped off, and that wouldn't sit well with any of them.

"Hey, Hap," Lyla came over and held out an envelope. When he eyed it suspiciously she rolled her eyes. "It's your pay stub."

He took it from her and watched her continue on with her envelopes giving them to the girls who weren't currently with a client, and the guys running security. She paused with Primo, Nero's right hand man, and despite the fact that Happy couldn't hear what they were saying, there seemed to be something going on there. He couldn't decide how he felt about that. He still thought of her as Opie's Old Lady, but she had always been nice, and if anyone deserved a slice of happiness, it was her.

He waited, and five minutes before his shift ended Juice, who had the next shift, came in. The guy ran his hand over his Mohawk and walked over. "You might want to head out," Juice said quickly. "It's going to rain, I can feel it."

Happy frowned. Rain was not a biker's friend. "Thanks," Happy replied walking off without another word to anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, comments and kudos always appreciated ;)


	6. By Chance

"The highway will be faster," Indiana argued as she unlocked the back of her bright green Prius. Her eyes returned to the little home they had shared. She didn't feel particularly attached to the place, but felt a little odd leaving it.

"No, we're not taking the highway. It will be crowded," Mac responded lifting her heavy bag and putting it into the back of her vehicle. "We'll likely get stuck in traffic for hours." He shifted the bag around in the back till it laid out and it wouldn't move around. "I could probably get around it, but you sure as hell won't be able to in this," Mac gestured to her vehicle with contempt, "abomination."

"It's a Prius, and it has excellent fuel economy," Indiana responded in a particularly haughty manner.

Mac pressed his lips together in effort not to laugh. He shook his head before kissing her temple. "If I didn't love you so much, I'd burn this fucking thing," he said pointing his thumb in the direction of her vehicle.

"It's a good thing you love me then," Indiana replied with a playful smile. "We're taking the highway," she returned to their argument. "It is the most direct route."

Mac opened his mouth to argue when he spotted the basketball in the back of her car. He took it out and twirled it on one finger. "Let's play," he said. "Winner choses the route."

"That is juvenile," Indiana said, watching as he started to dribble the ball.

"Scared you'll lose?" Mac taunted with a grin, the ball bouncing rhythmically off the paved driveway.

Indiana stared at him for a moment, her lips pressed tightly together as she considered the probability of her getting her way. Regardless of outcome, her competitive spirit got the better of her. She lunged and got the ball away, dribbling it as she walked backwards. "Alright," she agreed with a cocky smirk. "You're on."

::

Trinity came out the back of Ashby's Provisions. She had a fifteen minute break while her mother worked the shop. She caught sight of Cherry who sat on the bench with a cigarette dangling from her fingertips.

"You're early," Trinity said with an impish grin. "That's new."

"Eat me," Cherry responded her unfriendly tone became balanced by the little smirk she sent Trinity's way. "Has it been busy?"

"Na," Trinity replied taking a seat beside the American girl who had taken refuge with them years ago. She enjoyed their easy friendship, and having both Cherry and Kerrianne working shifts at Ashby's Provisions made her days much more enjoyable. "It's dead all day." She stared at Cherry's cigarette and patted down her apron only to remember she'd finished the last of her pack during her morning break. "Do you have another fag?"

"Aren't you a little young," Cherry teased with a grin on her face.

"I amn't!" Trinity snarled. She hated that everyone assumed that she was years younger than she was. She was twenty-two and still people assumed she was seventeen at best. "And you know it," she muttered still quietly fuming over Cherry's comment.

"Testy." Cherry searched her purse for her pack of cigarettes.

"Been workin' all day with my mother," Trinity said as way of explanation. She loved her mother but there were days when the woman could drive a saint mad.

"Mo's great."

"You argue with her more than I do."

"And she still lets me keep my job." Cherry triumphantly pulled out the box and passed it to Trinity.

Cherry brought her own cigarette to her lips and inhaled deeply. Her life had never been neat, tidy or smooth but she had never imagined that she would have found a man she adored only to have to leave him. She never imagined that she would have to travel to Ireland to avoid the warrant for her arrest- okay maybe burning down the condo she had shared with her d-bag husband made that entire situation inevitable, but Ireland had been quite the curve ball. She never imagined that after being an Old Lady, this time of Liam O'Neil, she'd be left with another body to bury.

Cherry remained incredibly grateful to Maureen who had taken her in when she first came to Belfast. Her new refuge might have been because of the initial push from her husband, Keith McGee, the former president of SAMBEL, before his death. Her being getting there and being protected has been because of her brief affiliation to SAMCRO. Maureen kept her with a job, and she'd been able to save enough money for her own tiny flat.

Trinity pinned the cigarette between her lips and used her own lighter to get the end burning. She inhaled, held the smoke a second and blew it out before she handed the pack back to Cherry.

The two young women sat in a companionable silence. Cherry dropped the end of her cigarette and stubbed it out under her boot. "I should head in and let Mo go home."

"I'll be back in ten," Trinity responded.

Cherry nodded, she blew her fire engine red hair from her eyes. She still hadn't gotten use to the colour, or the fact that her hair had been cut to chin length. She had needed the change after Liam. She zipped up her bag and headed in to start her shift at Ashby's Provisions.

Trinity enjoyed the moment of silence, as she finished off the cigarette.

::

The park smelled of fresh cut grass. No children played on the swings or monkey bars. Mac and Indiana were the only ones on the basketball court. Located a convenient five minute walk from their house, it served as a perfect place to compete.

Indiana pivoted on her right foot before jumping as she shot the ball. It didn't even touch the rim as it slid through the hole with a 'whoosh.' "Nothin' but net!" Indiana hollered as she raised her hands in victory as the ball bounced a few times before rolling into the grass.

"Unbelievable," Mac muttered shaking his head.

"Who's the champ?" she asked rubbing in her win. She swung her hips in a little victory dance. "I'm the champ."

"You're an ungracious winner, you know that?" Mac muttered as he collected the ball and returned to her. "I'm glad we're taking separate vehicles. A four hour drive with you right now would be completely insufferable."

She laughed as she leaned into him just slightly. "We're taking the highway."

"Yeah, I figured," Mac replied tucking the basketball under one arm while the other wound around the small of her waist. She rested her head against his shoulder for a moment and inhaled deeply the scent of him and the fresh cut grass of the park. "I'm going to miss this," he murmured as his fingertips skimmed up her spine, her neck and wound themselves in her hair.

Indiana had mixed feelings that she couldn't make head or tails of since she insisted on shoving them down, locking the box and throwing away the key. "I'll miss you," she replied truthfully. She and Mac had been friends for a long time, despite the fact that he had prospected and later patched Nomad, Mac spent the majority of his time in Red Willow. Even with her going to school, and him going on runs they hadn't ever spent that much time apart since he'd joined the Sons. The complications of her feelings came with being his Old Lady.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and held her own wrists to keep him there for just a moment. When she closed her eyes it felt like an old memory, one where they stood just like this on the court at the far side of Sanctuary's parking lot. The memory of the night that everything between them changed.

He kissed her temple, just like he had in the memory. "We should go," he said softly.

"Yeah," she whispered, her mind skipping back to the present. She looked up and his lips claimed hers in light, sweet kisses. He released her and she let out a small sigh. His hand found hers and they walked hand in hand back to their vehicles.

::

Lyla came into Diosa earlier than usual, as per the request of Nero. She worried that perhaps he wasn't pleased with her job performance. She found her aging difficult to deal with. She had once been a porn star, then she worked as an escort but since the incident where she got shot in the leg she'd been booking appointments. She liked her new position and feared losing it. In the business she spent her life in, she was approaching the age where there would be less and less men interested. Booking appointments though, that would be a consistently good job.

She pulled herself to full height and adjusted the strap of her purse nervously. The building didn't look so big on the outside. The building stood strong, clean and inviting. The two big planters on either side of the door were overflowing with colourful and beautifully scented blooms. She walked between the planters, her fingers skimming over a big yellow flower before she gave the front door of Diosa a testing pull. Finding the door unlocked, she walked in. A couple of cleaners were there dusting the furniture and wiping down the glass. She figured Nero would be in his office and headed there first. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

"Come in," Nero's voice came from beyond the door.

Lyla timidly pulled the door open. Nero was not alone. Jax sat across from him and he stood when she entered. "Hey," Jax motioned her closer with one hand.

"Hey," she responded. Her nerves settling slightly at the sight of the SAMCRO President. She knew deep down that he would never allow anything to happen to her. Jax had always been good to her, especially after Opie died, but seeing him always made her a little sad. He always served to remind her of late husband.

"How are Ellie and Kenny?" Jax asked.

"They're good," she replied. She found it difficult to take care of three kids. Piper, her own son, was hard enough, the added stress of the Opie's two children weighed on her shoulders. "They ask about you sometimes. If you have time, you should visit."

Jax offered a lazy smile. "I will, maybe I'll bring Abel and Thomas with me."

"I'm sure they would like that," Lyla responded before turning to look at her boss and then back to Jax. "But I don't think that this is why I was called in."

"No, it wasn't," Jax replied. He sounded older, stressed. Lyla's nerves spiked once again.

Nero gestured to the second seat across from where he sat at his desk. "Please, sit."

Lyla walked over in her heels and sat carefully before crossing her legs at her ankles. "So, what is this about?"

Jax settled back down into his own chair and shared a look with Nero. Jax looked over at the woman his best friend had taken as a second wife. "We trust you," he started. He watched Lyla's eyes narrow with curiosity. "Which is why we wanted to let you in on something that is going on here at Diosa."

"Someone started skimming money," Nero took over. "A lot of money."

"Who?" Lyla asked sounding surprised.

"We don't know that yet," Jax replied as he ran his hand through his blond hair.

"But we're going to find out," Nero sounded determined, and a hint of anger wove its way into his voice.

Lyla took a deep breath in and slowly exhaled. Someone needed to get their head checked, in her opinion. Who the heck would be stupid enough to steal not only from Nero Padilla, but the Sons of Anarchy? "How are you going to do that?"

"We have someone coming in to work the books," Nero informed her. "Comb over absolutely everything. Payroll, accounts, expense reports, bills, the works."

"Who?" Lyla asked curiously. "Is it Bobby?"

"No," Jax replied. "No one from the club, we don't want to raise red flags."

"The guys already work security," Lyla pointed out.

"But none of the guys are involved with the numbers," Jax replied shaking his head. "Suddenly sending a Son in to work the numbers is going to throw up red flags that we are suspicious."

"An affiliate?" Lyla asked.

Jax nodded once. "Called around. Quinn said he would send someone. We kept things brief and vague on the phone. I don't really know who he's sending, I just requested a woman who could work the numbers and he doesn't really know the details of what is going on here at Diosa."

"A new girl won't stand out," Lyla murmured to herself with an agreeing nod. She looked back up. "So why are you guys telling me this?"

"Our new girl is going to need to learn the ropes," Nero said leaning back in his chair. "I can't be paying any special attention. Give her the tour, introduce her to the business, and get her whatever she needs."

"Of course," Lyla agreed immediately. Since she had worked with Luanne Delaney she'd been associated with the club. She came further into the fold when she'd gotten into a relationship with Opie. She still fell under the wing of the club's protection and was grateful for it.

"Thanks," Jax said before standing. "I have to get going. She should be at the shop soon." He kissed Lyla's temple. "Take care of yourself."

"You too," she whispered in return and listened to his footsteps as they lead him out the door.

::

Chibs sat out front of the Teller-Morrow in his work uniform smoking a cigarette. He had spent the morning trying to fix a transmission problem. He had passed off the three oil changes and a tire rotation to Filthy Phil who muttered to himself as he worked. Chibs took a deep drag and quickly blew it back out. Fucking menthol. He'd been out and the pack had been lying abandoned on one of the tool boxes.

The seams of the club were unravelling. Things were as bad as they'd ever been. Worse, because despite the blood of wars past, this time brothers were at odds. Conflicts from within threatened them. He knew he held a part in that. He couldn't be in the same room as Juice, a brother he had once been close to. He tried to keep from fighting with the man. Juice had helped with Clay and that had put him back under the good graces of Jax.

Part of him wanted to beat Juice bloody. The other part just wanted to be able to go back to the way things had been before. Juice wasn't the only one keeping secrets though, and he wasn't the only brother who had tried to negotiate with Feds. Hell, he himself had stood there face to face with Stahl. He shook his head, but his mind didn't clear.

They never dealt with the things that happened, not if they could simply skim it over and continue on through sheer force of will. Problem was, more things piled on and it became more and more difficult to balance. Chibs knew eventually something would give, and he could only speculate on the fallout.

Chibs's line of thought broke as Happy came out of garage and sat down next to him.

Happy pulled out a pack of cigarettes and paused as he pulled one out. Happy's nostrils flared, his dark eyes flicked over to Chibs. "Are you fucking smoking menthol?"

"I'm out," Chibs responded gruffly in his own defense.

Happy blew out a breath that clearly said he was appalled by the choice and silently offered his pack.

Chibs stubbed out the menthol stick and flicked it away before taking one of Happy's. Chibs pinned the cigarette between his lips and cupped his hands around his lighter to keep the wind from interfering as he lit up. He inhaled deeply and nearly coughed at how strong they were.

"You got these at the Wehewa reservation," Chibs accused. "Didn't you?"

"Cheaper," Happy responded.

Chibs shook his head, Happy's reasoning didn't surprise him in the least. They watched as Jax pulled in and parked his motorcycle.

The President walked over to them pulling his own cigarettes out and lighting up as he walked. He shoved the pack back into his pockets and nodded at his Sargent-at-Arms, and Happy. "Have you guys cleared the dockets?"

Chibs shook his head. "Sorry, Brother. Transmission is bein' a shit," his accent muddled the words slightly. "Car's a banger anyway."

"Can it be fixed?" Jax asked as he blew out smoke.

"Almost got it," Chibs said with a nod. "But if it conks out again, the owner is shit outta luck." Chibs took another drag off his cigarette before he nodded his head slightly at Jax. "So how'd it go at Diosa?"

The rumble of a motorcycle announced Bobby and Tig arriving. Jax knew approximately when their new numbers girl would be arriving and the guys were all to be in the clubhouse before then.

"Caught Lyla up to speed," Jax replied. He flicked the ashes from the end of his cigarette and they scattered in the gentle breeze. He took a few steps to the side so he could look at the clock inside of the garage. "Our girl should be here soon."

More motorcycles announced the arrivals of Juice and the prospect V-Lin.

"What do you boys think about patchin' him?" Jax asked conversationally as he watched the prospect and Juice park their bikes in the line. They were low on numbers and Jax didn't like it.

"His time's up," Chibs said with a nod. "Seems solid."

Happy nodded his head once.

"We'll vote it soon," Jax decided with a nod watching his brothers go into the clubhouse.

Happy crushed the end of his cigarette under his boot. Chibs stubbed his out on the picnic table and flicked it away. Jax took another drag. "Get yourselves a drink, I'll get Phil to close up the garage."

Neither Chibs nor Happy had any inclination to argue with that order and both men walked off toward the clubhouse.

::

Jax sat in front of the now closed garage. He paced slightly as he smoked his third cigarette in the waiting time. A motorcycle pulled in. The kutte and lettering even at the distance informed Jax that the man was a Son. The engine turned off and Jax walked toward the newcomer. The man dismounted the motorcycle and took off his helmet to expose strawberry blonde hair that waved and curled around his ears.

"Quinn said he was sending a woman," Jax said angrily.

"Just wait," the man responded removing his sunglasses and shoving them into the front pocket of his kutte where Nomad was written proudly.

A green Prius turned in and drove up to them before stopping. The quiet engine stopped. Jax walked around to the driver's side door and opened it.

A youthful woman with long fair hair looked up at him. "Hi," she said with a smile. She grabbed a brown pocketbook from the passenger seat and climbed out. "I'm Indiana," she introduced herself in a professional manner. "You must be Mr Teller," she stuck out her hand. "Quinn sent me."

Jax couldn't help himself, he took her hand and instead of shaking it as she had gone for so professionally he turned her hand slightly and kissed the back of it. "It's a pleasure, darlin'."

"Watch it," the man said coming up beside Indiana.

"This is Mac," Indiana introduced.

"I'm her Old Man."

Jax didn't miss the possession in Mac's voice. He let go of Indiana's hand. "Nomad," he muttered.

"Looking to patch," Mac said.

Jax felt at odds about the Nomads. He trusted Quinn, but the rest of them he just couldn't be sure of. He figured he would as Happy, a former Nomad, what he knew about the newcomer. They needed the numbers, and he couldn't be picky at this point. "We can test you out," Jax replied coolly.

"I'd appreciate it," Mac replied.

"We should get inside, we don't want anyone knowing you're an affiliate around here," Jax said to Indiana and she nodded in understanding. "We're all in the clubhouse, come on," Jax told them and lead the way across the lot.

::

Happy nursed a glass of Jack Daniels as he shot a round of pool with Tig. Twenty bucks sat riding on the game. Tig kept trying to mess him up but he stuck to the game with cool concentration. He lined up his shot, hit the white ball which tapped against the purple solid giving it that extra push it needed to fall into the hole.

Tig cursed.

Walking around the table, Happy eyed the positions of the eight ball. He bent slightly, lining the cue with the white ball. As he pulled the cue back the door behind him opened and he figured the woman had finally arrived.

"Guys," Jax said loudly gaining the attention of the men in the room. Happy focused on the task at hand. "This is Indiana." Happy hit the ball far too hard, the eight ball went in but the white ball followed right after.

"Ha!" Tig hooted triumphantly grabbing their bet money from a side table.

"She's going to be helping to sort the mess with the finances at Diosa," Jax continued.

Happy whirled around and set eyes on Indiana Quinn for the first time in over seven years. She still wore her fair blonde hair long, but now had bangs that fell below her eyebrows making her blue eyes seem smaller, more in proportion with the rest of her face. Her body seemed exactly as he remembered it, long, trim and athletic. Her clothing threw him for a loop; black skinny jeans, a white blouse and a black blazer. Her combat boots had been replaced with sensible, professional blue flats. She looked like an accountant, but she didn't look like the Indiana he remembered.

He couldn't explain the sudden surge of anger. "What the hell are you doing here?" he growled at her and for the first time her eyes met his. Colour drained from her face.

"Hap?" Indiana's voice had gone quiet and the clubhouse had done the same, most of the guys looking at Happy as if he'd completely lost it. Indiana blinked, shock flooding her system and she tried desperately to think clearly.

"Quinn sent you?" Happy's voice held disbelief and Indiana bristled at the sound of it.

"Yes, he did," Indiana responded, heat simmering in her voice as her arms crossed over her chest. He happened to be the very last person she wanted to see. Seven years may have passed but apparently the hurt hadn't gone away. Every emotion she had felt when she last set eyes on him came back full force and she struggled to maintain an outward appearance of absolute control.

"You two know each other?" Jax asked his eyebrow raising in question.

"She's Quinn's kid," Happy replied, his dark eyes never leaving Indiana. He looked right at her, yet, he still couldn't believe that she stood in the Charming clubhouse.

Indiana scoffed. "I'm twenty-seven," she held onto her anger like an anchor. Anger could be acceptable in such a situation, breaking down into tears would not be. "Please refrain from calling me a 'kid.'"

She felt Mac's hand on the back of her neck and knew he was making sure that everyone knew that he hadn't just happened to be riding down with her. He was marking his claim and when she looked up at him, she noticed Mac's green eyes were narrowed at Happy.

"That's Mac, Indiana's Old Man," Jax introduced. "He'll be staying with us."

"Another Nomad?" Tig shook his head.

Jax silenced any further complaints with a simple look. "Indiana? Come on, I need to go over a few things with you."

She nodded, and tore her eyes away from Happy. She felt Mac's hand slip from her as she walked along side Jax. He opened the black doors to Church and she stepped in first. He shut the door behind them.

"Is that something I need to be worried over?" Jax asked.

"I have no idea what you mean," Indiana replied, feigning ignorance.

Jax decided it would be best not to push. Happy would never risk the club over whatever animosity laid between him and Quinn's daughter. Plus, Jax didn't think Happy would appreciate it if he started meddling in his private business.

"Take a seat," Jax said as he sat at the head of the table. Indiana sat where Chibs usually did, just to his right. He pushed a file he had waiting on the table over to her. "This has all the copies of my paperwork for the Sons stakes in Diosa." He grabbed a second file and opened it before her. "Map and directions from here to your new place. Nero got his lawyer to put everything under her name so there isn't a link back to the Sons." He pointed to the second map. "Here's the directions from the house to Diosa."

"That will be very helpful," she said casting him a smile. "Thank you, Mr. Teller."

Jax shook his head at her professional manner. "Just call me Jax."

She nodded once again. "Alright, thank you, Jax."

"You're welcome."

A knock on the door broke conversation and Bobby stuck his head in. "Nero's here."

"Send him in," Jax requested.

Bobby nodded and a moment later Nero walked in. "She our girl?" Nero asked Jax.

Jax nodded. "Nero Padilla, meet Indiana Quinn."

Indiana stood and stuck out her hand. Nero smiled and took it giving it a firm shake. "You've got a good grip," he commented as he released her. "Are you done with her?" he asked Jax.

"Yeah, I gave her my paperwork."

Nero pulled a key from the pocket of his jacket and held it out. "To your new place. I'll let you get settled. Be in by eight tomorrow. Go to the front desk, Lyla will be there, she knows everything and will give you the tour and show you your office. Anything you need, you ask her and she'll get it."

"Got it," Indiana replied with a nod.

Nero couldn't resist. "Are you the one driving that neon green hatchback?" he asked with a smile.

"Yeah," Indiana laughed. "Trust me, whatever you say about it, I've heard much worse."

"You might want to head out before someone takes note of that car being here," Nero said shaking his head. "Thing looks like it should glow in the dark."

Indiana nodded and held up the key in one hand, the folders the other. "I guess I have everything I need?" she looked to each of them in turn. "Alright," she said when neither said anything more. "I guess I'm free to go." She looked to Nero. "I will see you tomorrow, Mr Padilla, eight o'clock sharp." With that, she walked out.

She wanted to get out of the clubhouse as quick as possible. She didn't want to run into Happy. She didn't want to defend herself, nor her father's decision to send her to Charming. Of course, she should have known better than to think she could slip through unnoticed.

Naturally, Mac had been waiting. He grabbed her arm and pulled her into his body. "This is it," he whispered.

She nodded and felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. "I'll see you when this is done."

He nodded, his hand slid behind her neck and his lips pressed against hers. She kissed him back, and quite certain that Happy's eyes were on her, she grabbed Mac's kutte and pulled him closer. She moaned just slightly into his lips before she drew away. She kissed his cheek, leaving behind a faint pink print. "Love you."

He just smiled in return.

She turned on her heel and her eyes found Happy's dark ones, his hand tightly gripping a glass of amber liquid. He sat at the bar, and she needed to pass him on her way out. Her eyes narrowed angrily at him as she got closer.

He didn't look like he had aged much, he still seemed dangerous and untouchable. She'd had a crush on him from the time her hormones kicked in during puberty. She'd tried to ignore it, tried to smother it. Ultimately, she could remember the scent of him as he kept her pinned with his body, she could remember the feel of his skin against her own, she remembered the pleasure he had brought her. Most importantly, she remembered passing him her heart and having him drop it from her fingertips, it shattered all over the floor in the one of the dorm rooms of Sanctuary and it had never been quite the same since.

Neither said a word, but something of years past flared back up as their eyes locked in a battle of wills. She looked away first and walked straight out the door. The sun warmed her skin, the fresh air filled her lungs and she felt a little steadier. Surely this would be the worst of it. She wouldn't even see Happy. She would work at Diosa in her little office, figure out the financials, and live in a little house by herself. With her little pep-talk complete she quickly walked toward her car ready to get started.


	7. New Girl

The small house stood proud. The white siding appeared new and the freshly painted door looked homey in a powder blue. The porch spanned the length of the house and two steps lead up to it. She removed the new key from her pocket and let herself in.

Open concept made the small home feel big. The door opened to the kitchen, fair sized, painted white cupboards and black countertops. No partition separated the kitchen and the living room, but the living room did sink in a step. A grey couch sat across from the wall mounted television. The coffee table had a couple of magazines sitting on it. She walked down the short hallway, bedroom to the right, bathroom to the left and linen closet at the end of the hall. Not much, but more than enough for just her.

She went back out to her Prius and grabbed her bag from the back and lugged the heavy case up the stairs and into the house. She deposited the bag in the bedroom and looked around. The bedroom was painted pale green, he queen sized bed had a sturdy cherry wood frame, lovely blue sheets and a plain white comforter. The large cherry wood dresser sat to the right, and a beautiful vanity sat between the two large windows. The place had class, she'd give it that.

The silence ate at her, she went back to the living room and turned on the television. She found a music station she liked and turned it up. She returned to the bedroom and begun unpacking. She hung up clothing from shopping sprees she'd gone on with Emily. Some garments were professional, others were pretty, and few were sexy. She tried to blow her bangs from her eyes with ineffective results. She held up a navy blue blazer with gold buttons. She liked it, even if it felt confining and stuffy. She grabbed a hanger and hung it up.

A slinky black dress had been a gift from Tink. _'Every girl needs a little black dress,'_ Tink had told her. She stuck it on a hanger and hung it up.

The shimmering red top had a deep v-neck and had been something Emily insisted she try on, and later, insisted she buy. The price tag still pierced the washing instructions.

Indiana pulled a red leather jacket out of her suitcase. It had been a hand-me-down from her eldest half-sister Brooklyn. Given Indiana's extra height the arms just barely reached her wrists, and the jacket cut off a good inch and a half before her hips. Her thumbs worried over the leather, and she sat down on the bed. She had two half-sisters, one she had never even seen a picture of, and Brooklyn. Brooklyn for a time had been in her life. Their relationship could be described as turbulent at best yet when push came to shove, she still loved her sister even if she hadn't seen her since she left Sanctuary five years previous. Pushing herself back to her feet, she grabbed a hanger and hung up the jacket.

She tried once again to blow her bangs out of her eyes with no avail and continued to unpack.

::

"You've been quiet," Angus said as he came around the couch and flopped down on it, his head landing on Emily's lap. "It's kind of freaking me out."

She gave him a smile and her hand immediately went to his dark, thick, unruly hair. "I'm just thinking."

"About Indie?" Angus inquired. He hadn't known Indiana as long as Emily, but he knew her long enough to see the changes in the once bubbling, energetic young woman. He loved Indiana, not like he loved Emily, but cared deeply for her. He worried about Indiana's mood swings, her days of silence before she bounced back. He especially worried since he witnessed her having a panic attack. After ten minutes of hyperventilating alternating to screaming at him to stay away she calmed down and then begged him not to tell anyone. He felt confident that Emily knew, but true to his promise to Indiana, he never told anyone.

He looked up at Emily. He didn't like seeing his Old Lady so down, so quiet, so unlike herself. He knew she'd inevitably bounce back, she always did. Emily nodded as her hand threaded through his hair and his green eyes shut, a little smile played upon his lips. "That feels nice," he commented.

"I'm just playing with your hair."

"I just like it when you touch me." His tone indicated lewd suggestion and she bit her bottom lip as she tried to keep a grin from escaping.

"I bet you do," Emily replied.

Angus's eyes opened once again. He reached up and caressed her cheek. "Indie's going to be just fine," he assured Emily. "You'll see her soon."

"Yeah," Emily replied still feeling melancholy. "I know."

"Want to go shower together?" He asked with a big grin.

"You just want to see me naked," Emily said with a long suffering sigh.

"No," he replied feigning innocence as he sat up and shifted so he could brush his nose against hers. "I want to see you naked _and_ wet, it's totally different."

She tried not to smile but couldn't help herself. His lips claimed hers as he shifted, he pulled her off the couch with him never breaking the kiss. His fingertips skimmed under her shirt. "Come on," he spoke against her lips. "Come with me."

The sexual implication wasn't lost on Emily and she jumped into his arms, her legs locking around his hips. A smile flirted on her lips, her worries took a back seat.

::

V-Lin did not want to be behind the counter of the bar that particular night at the Sons of Anarchy clubhouse. He didn't mind the bartending, considering the crap the Sons put him through, bartending didn't make the top ten on the 'worst job list.' His current reason for not wanting to be there sat across from him at the bar. Happy had drank too much and practically radiated rage. V-Lin just didn't want that barely contained fury to unleash on him.

Another shot knocked back and Happy slammed the empty glass down on the bar. Dark eyes flicked up to V-Lin. Part of him wanted to cut the enforcer off, but the reject of the Lin Triad had a good sense of self-preservation so he, against better judgement, filled the shot glass yet again.

"Do you want to talk about it?" V-Lin asked timidly as he fussed with cap to keep his hands busy.

Happy's dark eyes flicked up and seemed soulless.

"I'm going to take that as a no," V-Lin said barely managing to keep his voice even.

Happy swallowed the shot and slammed the glass down. He grabbed the bottle from the prospect's hands and took it with him as he walked out front.

V-Lin blew out a breath of relief.

::

Happy sat on the bench outside of the clubhouse with his half smoked pack of cigarettes and a quarter bottle of whiskey. He didn't care about the brand. He cared about how much alcohol he could get into his system. He took a deep drag off the cigarette and blew out an angry line of smoke.

Happy didn't think Indiana should be in Charming and she certainly shouldn't be working at Diosa. He shook his head. He could hardly believe that Quinn would send his youngest daughter to deal with this problem. For Indiana, Quinn had pulled everything together, balanced his life as an outlaw, business man and father. Happy couldn't question the Nomad President's loyalty to the club though, and he could only imagine how making the decision had effected Quinn, for he had no doubt that it had.

He took another drag from his cigarette and held it a moment before blowing it out. He remembered her blatant display in the clubhouse. He never thought about her being with someone, hell, he tried most of the time not to think about her at all. Seeing her with Mac, the way they kissed, the way her long, delicate fingers had clenched in his kutte sent an overwhelming surge of- anger, definitely anger because it sure as hell wasn't jealousy- through his system. The way she had stepped back and left behind that signature kiss print on Mac's cheek only made it worse. Like she had marked him, chosen him over-

Happy took another shot to burn away the way his thoughts were going. Who cared who made Indiana Quinn their Old Lady? He took another chug from the bottle trying to erase the sound of her moan that had carried across the room. He set the bottle down and took the last drag off his cigarette. She had met his gaze unflinchingly. It surprised him that her eyes still held the anger of years past. She'd walked past with an air of superiority and left behind the scent of that damn floral perfume with notes of sandalwood that she had preferred since her late teens.

The idea of her working at Diosa on the accounts worried him. Someone stole a lot of money from men with very powerful backing. If they made that choice, then they were either incredibly stupid, or highly dangerous with enough backing to make them feel safe. Happy didn't like the idea of Indiana around dangerous men. He tried to take another swig from the bottle but found it empty.

He stared at it angrily for a second before he threw the bottle and it smashed somewhere in the middle of the parking lot. Someone would be pissed about the broken glass, but surely the prospect would clean it up.

He would talk to Jax and see about picking up more shifts at Diosa. He tried to convince himself that he needed the money but even under the influence he knew that just as Indiana always had, she pulled the protective instinct out of him. He wanted to be at Diosa to keep an eye on her, he tried to tell himself he was just doing it for Quinn, he didn't succeed in convincing himself though. He absent-mindedly ran his thumb over the first of his smiley face tattoos.

He flicked the end of his cigarette and stood unsteadily. He waited a moment to regain his balance before he headed inside to crash in one of the dorm rooms.

::

Dressed in an orange tank top and an old pair of blue yoga pants that served as pajamas Indiana walked barefoot through the house locking the doors and checking the windows. She turned off the lights on her way back to the bedroom. She closed the door, stared at it a second and then opened it a crack. She blamed the habit on her father who always left it open a crack when she was young so he would better hear her if she needed him.

Grabbing her cell phone she walked to the outlet and plugged it into the charger. She opened the window a little bit and a gentle breeze carried the scent of gardenias from the garden. She turned off the overhead light and carefully walked to the bed in the dark. She laid down and pulled the blankets up to her chin and closed her eyes.

After a few minutes she rolled onto her stomach.

Feeling too warm, she kicked down the blankets.

She made a list of groceries in her head, she could pick them up after her first shift at Diosa. She didn't feel nervous about the numbers, but could admit feeling a little anxious about the entire situation.

She rolled onto her back and tried to blame her worries on Happy. She hadn't been expecting him to be in Charming and seeing him again had thrown her for a loop. The blame didn't stick.

Still feeling too warm, she removed the pajamas, she preferred to sleep naked anyway.

Now she felt cold.

"God damn it," she muttered sounding miserable to her own ears.

The house creaked and panic swept over her. "It's nothing," she whispered to herself. "It's nothing."

Unable to convince herself, she quickly put her pajamas back on and fumbled around in the dark until she managed to hit the light switch. Her eyes went to her purse that sat on the dresser. She quickly unzipped it and pulled out the gun. Upon hearing another creak her heart leapt to her throat. She opened the door and hit the hall light. Her eyes scanned both ways, no one. She looked in the bathroom, empty. She mustered her courage and walked into the open area of the kitchen and living room her hand hitting the switches and the entire place became illuminated. No one. Doors were all still locked, windows all shut.

"It's nothing," she said frustrated with herself. She hated being on her own. She'd lived with her parents, then with Emily, then Mac. Even when Mac went away, she either talked Emily into coming over or she went over to Emily and Angus's.

She returned to the bedroom and put the gun back into her purse. It knocked against the box of bullets and she only then remembered that the gun remained unloaded. Paranoia kept her from carrying her gun loaded, last thing she needed was the safety going off and something in her purse hitting the trigger. She'd die of embarrassment if the bullet didn't kill her. _Daughter of MC President accidentally shoots herself in the foot?_ Yeah, she'd never live it down.

She left the light on as she crawled back into bed.

::

Indiana dozed, she didn't sleep. By five she'd given up hope on any real rest and decided to get an early start. By five twenty her runners were hitting the sidewalk. She wore black jogging leggings with a blue line down the sides and a baby blue athletic tank, her MP3 player strapped to her arm.

Unfamiliar with the area she maintained a straight line for as long as she could. She jogged in place beside a stop sign. There were more residences to the right, as she looked to the left it looked like it went into the heart of Charming. She could remember driving this way from Teller-Morrow. She decided to continue down into the heart of the town.

She discovered that at quarter to six in the morning, Charming looked like a ghost town. The only thing open was a twenty-four hour diner. She jogged past Hoffman's Pharmacy and Floyd's Barber Shop.

The scent of bacon flagged her from across the street and her self-restraint wavered. She paused, usually she ran a lot longer but her stomach grumbled loudly in protest. She bounced from one foot to the other trying to make up her mind. She didn't have groceries and didn't like the idea of going into Diosa on an empty stomach. She decided she'd just run after her shift and crossed the street to the diner.

She sat in one of the red booths and turned off her music. A middle aged waitress walked over and put a menu down on the table. "You're new," she said.

"Ah, that obvious, huh?" Indiana smiled. "Just moved here."

"What for?"

"New job," Indiana replied.

"Hmh, I'd like to get me one of those," the woman muttered before walking away.

The door opened and an elderly man walked in. "Hi Anna," he said waving to the waitress.

"Chief," Anna nodded. "The usual?"

"That would be nice," the man replied, he stopped and looked at Indiana. "You're new."

"Does everyone know everyone here?" Indiana replied annoyance and amusement warring for supremacy.

"Pretty much," he replied extending his hand. "Wayne Unser."

She took his hand in hers. "Indiana," she replied and motioned to the seat across from her. "Care to join me. Since I'm new you can let me know what's good here."

Unser smiled and took a seat. "Can't go wrong with bacon and eggs."

"You've never seen my father in the kitchen then," Indiana replied jokingly.

::

Indiana had spent a little too much time at the diner talking to Unser. After running back she'd taken a quick shower, did bare minimum make-up and ran to her closet. She grabbed a green tank top, navy blue blazer with gold buttons and black slacks. She dressed quickly, nearly stumbled in the hallway due to her haste. She found professional looking black kitten heels and decided she could safely drive in them so she slid them on and ran out the door.

She made good time and parked in the back lot. She walked around to the front of the building figuring it would be easiest to find Lyla if she did. She opened the door and took a step in. The interior designers must have had a fabulous time, she though as she looked around. A man stood against the wall just blended, security, she figured. Longish hair, scar on his face. Another man stood on the other side of the room, tall, curly hair, wild blue eyes and it took a moment but she placed him from the Sons of Anarchy clubhouse. He caught her gaze and winked before turning away.

She took a deep breath. She recognized him from the clubhouse. _The clubhouse!_ The Sons of Anarchy weren't just in business as a financial partner, they worked security too! Her stomach flipped nervously, if they all took turns it would only be a matter of time before Happy would be there.

She breathed in deeply and inhaled the scent from the large bouquet of flowers in the center of the room. The place was full of beautiful women in gorgeous dresses. She felt under dressed and unattractive in her boxy blazer. She told herself it didn't matter, she was an accountant after all, not an escort.

She walked over to the front desk and looked down at the knock-out blonde behind the desk. "Are you Lyla?"

"I am," Lyla responded looking up, she gave Indiana a warm smile. "You must be the new girl."

Only a few hours into the day but Indiana already felt annoyed with being the 'new girl.' She nodded. "Mr Padilla said you would show me around."

Lyla stood and looked to the guard who leaned against the wall to her right. "Primo, could you page me if anyone comes in? I have to show our new girl around."

Primo nodded but said nothing.

The building wasn't all that big and the tour didn't last too long. "This is your office," Lyla said opening the door with a key card before she handed it to Indiana. "And you key."

"Thanks."

The two girls walked in and the door automatically shut slowly behind them. The cramped office at least had a window, a desk, a book shelf, and two filing cabinets. A computer sat on the desk along with a calculator, pens and pencils and a phone.

"Nero said that copies of his documents are in here," Lyla informed her tapping the first filing cabinet. "I assume you brought the ones from Jax."

Indiana put the files for the Sons stake in Diosa on the desk. "I have," Indiana paused and assessed the other woman. "You're associated with both, that's why you're the one I'm to go with. They both trust you."

Lyla gave a sad smile. "Jax was the one who got me the job here." Her pager went off. "I have to go. If you need me just come to the front desk or hit pound three to call my desk."

"Alright, thanks Lyla."

"See you around," she responded as she walked out the door.

::

Indiana lost track of time when she worked. Math never let her down. One plus one would always be two. She grew up in a life that held no promises, no real consistency. With mathematics she got a problem, she knew the formula and she could find the solution. She set up spreadsheets, organizational charts, had a mess of notes that quickly messed up the desk that had been nice and neat before she got to it.

After eight hours at her desk she knew one thing, this mess would take a long while to figure out. She heard a knock at her door and went to answer it. Nero stood on the other side. "Just came to see how your first day went," he said strolling in. She shut the door behind him.

"This is going to take a while," she admitted.

He walked around the desk, she didn't mind, as a mathematician she always had to show her work. He whistled as he looked at the computer and then at all the notes. " _Chica_ , this is impressive work." He looked at formulas that had more letters than numbers. "How long till you have this all worked out?"

"I've only gotten through the past month," Indiana admitted on a sigh. She wished she could have gotten more done.

Now that he could see her work, he had faith that Jax had found the right person for the job. "You'll figure it all out," he said giving her a smile. "I'm sure." He nodded his head to the door. "Shift change is now-"

"But I ca-"

"No buts," he said narrowing his eyes. "No one works more than eight hours a day, get out, go home."

She shook her head but smiled. "Alright, alright, I'm going."

When she left the blue eyed Son still stood in the same spot but he flirted with one of the escorts. She hugged her purse tighter remembering that it was time for a shift change, she walked faster as she left the building. She walked around the side of the building and saw a motorcycle parked. She took a deep breath and trudged on. A man in a kutte walked around the corner and her breath held for a second, he stood shorter than she did, Asian, prospect, _not Happy_ , she let out a sigh of relief and shot him a friendly smile. He nodded his head just slightly as they passed one another.


	8. Broken Hearts

Early in the morning, Happy ran into Jax in the Teller-Morrow garage. "Pres," Happy called and Jax stopped. "I need a word."

Jax nodded. "Office," he said. The two men walked in from the side door and Gemma sat behind the desk going over the papers. "Hey," Jax greeted his mother and kissed her temple. "We need a minute."

Gemma's eyebrows went up a bit as she looked from her son to Happy. Happy wasn't exactly a big talker. She worried her son needed the enforcer for something big. Knowing that neither would let her in any way she just nodded and grabbed her purse. "Alright," she stood just as Chucky came in the door from the lot. She shooed him. "We're going for a break."

"As you wish," Chucky replied with a slight bow before following Gemma out.

Jax just shook his head at the man's strange behavioural patterns and shut the door. He turned around and studied the tattooed enforcer. "Well, what is it?" He asked curiously.

"I'd like more shifts at Diosa," Happy said straight to the point.

The President nodded his head just once as he gave the request some consideration. All of the guys liked working at Diosa, easy money and pretty girls. A week ago if Happy had come to him with the request, he would have assumed the man needed the money for his mother. Now, Jax wasn't so sure that was the motive. "This is about Indiana," Jax kept his poker face on and tried to get a read on Happy, but the man kept his face blank.

"I need the money," Happy said. A moment of silence passed as they stared at each other. Happy realized quickly that Jax didn't fully believe him. "I trust the guys," he started needing to ensure the Jax that trust was not the problem. "But it's Quinn's daughter."

Jax understood the kind of loyalty Happy had to Quinn, and by extension his family. "And you want to keep eyes on her? You exploded the last time you saw her."

Happy realized that Jax saw him as a potential problem and knew if he were to get more shifts at Diosa, Jax would need an explanation for his behaviour. "I watched her grow up, Jax. We had a bit of a falling out."

Jax watched the enforcer shift in his stance and it surprised him to see Happy fidgety.

"Her being in Charming and working at Diosa- I didn't see it coming," Happy admitted. "I'm betting Quinn isn't too happy about it."

Jax shrugged. Quinn had sounded agitated and worried over the phone but said nothing about it.

"I just want to keep an eye on her," Happy's low voice insisted. "For Quinn's sake."

Jax suspected there was more between Happy and Indiana, while he knew Happy would keep eyes on the young woman because he was such good friends with Quinn, Jax didn't believe that was the real motive. Still, who better to keep an eye on their asset? Jax didn't have any desire to make a call to Quinn explaining that something had happened to his daughter.

"Alright," Jax agreed. "I'll talk to Nero."

"Thanks brother," he replied turning to head back to the garage.

"Wait a second," Jax said stopping him. "I need a word with you."

Happy turned back around. "Yeah?"

"I still have to talk to Chibs, but I'm going to ask him when he gets in to be my V.P," he said. Now that Bobby had given up the position there was no one else Jax trusted who he thought would be suited to the responsibility of the advisory job. Jax trusted Chibs and had always gone to him for advice and thus been a natural choice. "That means I need a new Sargent at Arms." He looked pointedly at Happy.

For some time, Jax had watched as the club, the brotherhood, started to fall apart. Secrets were destroying the club. Jax, Chibs and Bobby were all keeping Juice's near suicide and rat status a secret but if they continued on this path the club would get tied up and choked to death on their own bullshit. Who better to keep them honest than a SAA who tolerated no nonsense, no secrets, and no indiscretions within the club.

Happy took a deep breath and blew it out. He had no desire to play club politics. He didn't strive to rise in the ranks, if he did he could have been the SAA in Tacoma some years back. He wanted badly to decline.

"I need you brother," Jax said aiming his blue eyes at his brother allowing a moment of vulnerability knowing his need would make Happy fold.

Happy tried to come up with an alternate solution that made sense. Tig could be crossed out, he knew that Jax would never take Clay's right hand man. Bobby had already distanced himself from the VP position. Happy didn't think that Phil couldn't stomach the job. Juice seemed too caught up in his own shit, besides he already had an important role as their intelligence officer. V-Lin still maintained prospect status. With numbers down, he realized he was the only logical choice.

"Shit," Happy muttered.

"Is that a yes?"

His teeth clenched and the muscle in his jaw jumped. "Yes."

Jax nodded with a proud smile. "I'll talk to Chibs. We'll take it to Church later tonight."

::

Indiana had a comfortable routine and it didn't differ much from Red Willow to Charming. She got up early and made herself breakfast before she went for her run. She did three miles that went straight through the heart of Charming, circled around through a quiet residential neighbourhood, and followed a lake through a small park and out the other side back around into her own temporary neighbourhood. She'd shower and dress professionally for work. She'd park her Prius in the back but go in the front.

She held her breath in worry that Happy would be in, but today a mohawked man with tattoos stood to the side keeping an eye on the girls. She stopped by the desk and say 'good morning' to Lyla before going to her office. The escorts all ignored her but she didn't mind. She didn't really want to stand out in a brothel anyway.

Her office already looked like a mess. She sighed and put her purse a chair before she walked around the desk and sat in her comfortable leather seat. She moved the calculator a little closer, and turned on the computer.

She worked steadily until noon and felt frustrated. She had noticed discrepancies between accounts, expenses and overall finances but couldn't figure out where the money had gone. Deciding to take a lunch break she left her office. She walked down the hall and into the break room. A fridge held fresh sandwiches, apples and bottles of water. She took one of each and sat at the table.

Another woman walked in and immediately went to the refrigerator. Indiana couldn't help but notice that they could have passed for sisters. While the other woman stood a little shorter, she had the same dark blonde hair, lightly tanned complexion, high cheekbones, and prominent lower lip. Their noses were different, as were their eyes, but the similarities stuck. The woman wore her hair shorter than Indiana, styled straight it went to the bottom of her shoulder blades, and Indiana's hit her lower back.

The woman looked over and raised an eyebrow. Indiana flushed realizing she'd been caught staring. "Hi, nice dress," she complimented. The dress in question fit like a glove, the plum purple matched the dark lipstick she wore.

"Thanks," she replied pulling free a bottle of water only before coming over and sitting down. "I have a client coming up soon who bought it for me." Indiana felt subconscious as the woman's green eyes looked her over. She wore a grey pant suit with a blue camisole, which she thought to be perfectly acceptable for an accountant. The woman raised an eyebrow. "You must work behind a desk."

"Accounts," Indiana muttered.

"I didn't know there were any women accountants working here."

"I'm new," Indiana replied on a sigh being sick to death of explaining her status.

"Ah," the woman nodded. "In that case, I'm Irina."

"Indiana."

Irina twisted the cap off of her water and took a small sip. "How are you enjoying the job?"

"It's good," Indiana replied. Growing up she'd learned to keep answers vague when it came to people you didn't know. After all, who knows what can be used against you.

Irina checked a dainty white gold watch on her tiny wrist. She blew out a breath and pushed her hair back. "I'm afraid I have to keep an uninteresting balding man company," Irina said. "See you around."

Indiana nodded and returned to her lunch.

Back at her desk Indiana realized some of her problem were forged documents. Some of the numbers she had been working with weren't correct and didn't match up with other documents. She blew out an annoyed breath. Someone was doing a pretty good job at hiding their trail. She hadn't expected the job to be easy, but she hadn't expected the clusterfuck that it had turned out to be.

She worked an hour over when Nero walked in using his master key to get in. "Lyla said that she hadn't seen you leave yet when she headed out," Nero shook his head as Indiana looked up from her stacks of notes and documents. "Go home, this mess will still be here in the morning."

Indiana stared at him and then back down at the numbers. She chewed on her bottom lip as her mind worked. "Mr Padilla, could you get me daily statements?"

"Sure," Nero responded as he leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest. "How far back?"

"Since you opened."

His mouth dropped open. "Are you serious?"

"Afraid so," Indiana grimaced. "I can keep working back but if they made a big slip-up likeliest time would be in the beginning. It might make this search go a little faster." She decided not to tell Nero about the forged documents, she wanted to talk to the other accountants and feel them out herself first.

"Yeah," Nero pushed back some of his hair. "I'll get it from the bank first thing in the morning."

"Thanks," Indiana returned her gaze to the calculator.

"Go home."

Indiana sighed but smiled. "Going."

Nero waited so she didn't have much of a choice but to leave. She grabbed her purse from the chair on the other side of her desk and pulled it over her shoulder. "See you tomorrow," she said.

"Good night," he replied pulling the door to her office closed behind himself.

Indiana walked down the hall, she smiled at Irina who spoke with a potential client, she gave Indiana a wink in return and it likely also snagged the man as well. Lyla had already gone home for the night and a gorgeous dark skinned woman sat behind the desk answering calls and booking appointments.

One of Nero's men, a tall, fair haired man with tattoos stood by the front desk. On the other side of the room the mohawked man had been replaced. Indiana froze in her tracks under the hard look in Happy's eyes.

She straightened up, kept her eyes glued to the door and walked past him refusing to further acknowledge his existence. She could practically feel his gaze on her back when she walked by and she breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed between them.

::

Emily finished up with her final client of the day and went to her desk. She pulled her pocket book from her desk and unzipped it to pull out her phone. She pressed the power button and left the cellphone on her desk while she turned to her computer to check the appointments for the next day. Her phone beeped with each backlogged incoming message or call. After nine she picked up her phone worriedly as it continued to sound.

A few missed messages was normal. A flood of missed calls sent off Emily's alarm bells. Her heart rate kicked up as she looked at the list. Each of the phone calls had come from Indiana's cellphone. With her hand shaking she managed to hit the 'talk' button before she put the phone up to her ear.

The three rings were three of the longest seconds of her life.

_"Em?"_

"Are you okay," Emily's words came out in a rush. "Honey, is it another-"

_"I'm fine,"_ Indiana's words were snippy, and Emily could hear a simmering anger waited to boil over.

Emily took a moment to take a deep breath and find her centre. "You called me fourteen times," Emily said keeping her voice soft and soothing. "Something is clearly bothering you."

The silence, Emily knew, was consideration. Indiana had a habit of boxing things up. Being an old lady, Emily understood the need to keep things on a need to know basis and to keep secrets. Being a therapist she also knew that those secrets could ultimately take a big toll.

_"Happy is in Charming."_

It sounded as if the words came through clenched teeth. Emily took in a deep breath, and held it for a full four seconds before she slowly released it. Unable to come up with a decent response, she did it again. She pushed her dark waves from her face. "I thought you said-"

_"That he patched Tacoma? He did, but,"_ Indiana muttered angrily under her breath and Emily assumed her friend was cursing a blue streak. _"But it's quite apparent that he transferred. He's got Redwood Original on his kutte. I mean, I never asked about him after he left. I tried to just forget about him, to leave it in the past and move on."_

"You're working at Diosa," Emily said keeping her voice calm and even.

_"Yeah, and the Sons provide protection. Today was the first time I saw him there."_

Emily ran her free hand through her dark wavy hair. "Christ," she muttered under her breath. Last thing she wanted was for Indiana to get twisted up over Happy again. Then again, maybe a confrontation was what she needed to put it all to rest. "How do you feel about that?"

_"How do I- how do I_ feel _about it? Are you kidding me, Em? He's here and,"_ Indiana huffed out a breath but didn't continue.

"And what, Indie?" Emily pried. "You're angry, I can tell but is it because he is there or is it because you were blindsided?"

_"Because,"_ Indiana replied but faltered, a moment of silence followed.

"It's okay to feel hurt, he broke your heart."

_"That was seven years ago_ ," Indiana responded her tone crisp and cold. _"I'm over it."_

"Clearly not or you wouldn't be reacting this way."

_"What is that supposed to mean?"_ Indiana asked, her voice pitched with a hint of indignation.

"Indie-"

_"Don't, just don't, okay?_ _I'm over Happy. In fact, there was never anything there to get over in the first place. We were never together-"_

"You two had se-"

_"I know! And that's it, we were together for a moment, nothing more than a one night stand. People do not get all emotional and hurt when they see someone from a one night stand."_

"Okay, what you two did was not a one night stand," Emily argued. "Your heart was in it and it got broken."

_"Seven fucking years, Em. I'm with Mac now."_ Silence lingered over a moment. _"So why does it still hurt so much to see him? Why do I still wish that things could go back to the way they used to be between us?"_ she asked sounding like she was in physical pain.

Emily hated to hear her friend so distraught. "Because you love him, Honey."

_"I love Mac,"_ she said like it was some kind of defense.

"You do," Emily conceded. "But it doesn't mean that you ever stopped loving Happy."

_"I wish I could."_ Indiana whispered it so low that Emily almost missed it.

A minute passed in complete silence.

_"I should make dinner,"_ Indiana muttered. _"I'll talk to you later."_

"Okay," Emily responded softly. "Love you to tits."

_"Yeah,"_ Indiana replied and Emily could hear the smile, however fleeting, in her voice. _"Love you too, Em."_


	9. Up In The Air

Ally Lowen waited in the hallway of the women's low-security prison. As expected, Tara would be released. Now that she had tied up the Tara Knowles case, Ally allowed her mind to worry over why the hell Lee Toric would make such a reckless move. Surely he knew Tara wouldn't actually be convicted because of the circumstantial evidence.

Really, Lee Toric was a club problem, not hers. The mystery puzzled her, worried her. Being an associate of the club left her isolated from law colleagues who would shoot her dirty looks or run their mouths and she didn't have much time to dedicate to any real social life. She got caught up in club business, knew the ins and outs of the club. The Sons of Anarchy were the closest thing she had to friends or family and that made Toric her problem personally even if it managed to stay off her professional desk.

Footsteps had her pulling away from the wall, her tailored navy blue skirted suit gave her a confident edge. Tara and a guard came around the corner. Tara had her hair cut to chin length and it reminded Ally of when Jax came out of prison with his hair cut short.

Tara let out a sigh of relief when her eyes met with Ally's, and the lawyer gave her an assuring smile. The guard opened the door between them and Tara hugged the other woman causing Ally to take a step back in surprise. She laughed. "Hello Tara."

"Sorry," Tara released the lawyer with a sheepish smile. "I just… I guess it didn't seem like I was really getting out of here until I saw you."

Ally looked the young woman over looking for cuts or bruises but found no indication of any fights. "You've lost weight," Ally noted as she looked at the boot-cut blue jeans and white tank top that had been from Tara's own closet.

Tara shrugged. "Food isn't so great here," she muttered.

"Don't worry," Ally said. "Gemma's throwing a big shindig."

"Fuck that," Tara nearly growled angrily causing the guards to look their way.

Ally shot the guards a winning smile before putting her arm over Tara's shoulders to lead her further down the hallway toward the exit. "Do I need to know something?"

"She threatened to go to the cops," Tara admitted keeping her voice low. If she couldn't talk confidentially to her lawyer, then she truly was alone.

"She's the one who brought you Luann's cross," Ally murmured and Tara nodded. "She isn't part of the ride party."

"She's impossible," Tara whispered stopping at the door to the outside world. Being inside she could see some benefits. No Gemma Teller-Morrow for instance. She shook her head, there had once been a time where she felt love for Gemma, respected her, learned from her, admired her fighting spirit. It scared her some days when she realized just how much they could be alike.

Tara felt apprehensive about taking her first steps back outside. Right before being arrested she'd told Jax that she was taking the boys and moving. The job offer had been taken from the table upon the hospital's discovery that she had been arrested. Prison time didn't look good for doctors. How could she take the boys and move with no job? Her hands trembled with nerves.

"No argument there," Ally replied. "She's a force of nature."

Tara nodded and looked apprehensively at the door. "I spent my time in here thinking but I still have no idea how to handle everything that is beyond this door."

Ally stood a little straighter. "You're Jackson Teller's Old Lady, you're a mother to two beautiful boys, you are intelligent and you are strong. The men of this club adore you, trust in Jax he loves you."

Tara turned and looked up at Ally. "I was going to take the job offer in Oregon," she confessed. "I was going to take the boys and move there, I told Jax that if he loved us he would follow us there." She looked to the ground and focused on her breathing as she did her best not to end up in tears. "This club poisons everything," her eyes flicked back up to meet Ally's. The thought of Wendy who'd come in to her office the day after Jax had drugged her plagued her mind. She had a hard time wrapping her mind around the fact that her husband was capable of such a thing.

"Jax will keep you safe."

Tara shook her head slightly. She loved Jax with all her heart, but if the club didn't get him killed, the chair would take his soul.

"Come on," Ally said waving to the guards and the door buzzed as it unlocked. "Time to go."

Tara took her first steps out to see a line of shiny black motorcylcees and a big black van waiting for them. The sun beat down on her face but the air remained defiantly cool. She shut her eyes. If she didn't get out of Charming she feared she'd end up in a body bag or she'd end up just like Gemma and she wasn't sure which ending she considered to be worse. She opened her eyes again and looked out at the men as she walked toward them.

Jax walked to meet her. Despite how they left things he welcomed her with open arms and she walked right into them, her arms wrapping tightly around his waist as her head rested against his heart. He held her tightly his cheek against the top of her head. For all her fears, she still felt safe in his arms, she still felt some hope that they could stand against the world and come out on top. She pulled back a bit and his lips met hers, soft and sweet. "I've missed you," he whispered against her lips. She nodded, not trusting her voice. "Let's get you home. Our boys miss you too."

She bit back a sob at the mention of her boys, her heart twisting. She nodded eagerly and followed Bobby and Ally to the van.

::

"We have a few things to vote on," Jax filled her in vaguely as they stood in the middle of the Teller-Morrow parking lot. "I'll fill you in later, Lowen will give you a ride home."

"Who's looking after the boys?" Tara asked her heart beating a little faster than normal.

"Lyla," Jax replied. His hand went to his wife's much shorter do, a little smirk took over his face. "She looks forward to seeing you. Play nice."

Tara nodded and kept her lips pressed tightly together. She wanted time with her husband, to go home as a family, to talk, to work through their issues. The club always comes first. She hadn't approved of Lyla's career choices, but couldn't fault the woman who had stepped up to take care of the two children from her short, faulty marriage- she loved them and took care of them as her own.

Jax's hands ran through her hair and clasped around the base of her neck. His blue eyes met her darker ones, the intensity of his gaze held her captive. "I love you."

Those three words from him still had the power to make her knees tremble. The depth of his love, of his devotion to her could be startling at times. The depth of her own love matched, there wasn't anything she wouldn't do for him. Trying to move him from the club was a decision she made very much for him. She didn't want to pull him from something he loved, but she did want to pull him away from something that could get him prison time, or killed, or maybe worse- the gavel could corrupt him in the way it did Clay. She shuddered at the thought.

Clearing her mind, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed her husband lightly. There would be a time for passion, for the sexual needs that had been under lock and key since her arrest would be unleashed. The Teller-Morrow parking lot at mid-day was not that time. "I love you," she whispered in return.

::

"Church!" Jax shouted at the boys as he moved through the clubhouse. He tossed his prepaid on the pool table and the rest of the men did the same as they filed into the room and sat around the redwood table.

Ratboy had been loaned out to Tacoma. He had a cousin who patched SAMTAC and had been requested for a long run. Now that he had returned to Charming he sat in the room with the rest of the patched brothers and his fellow prospect, V-Lin.

Jax didn't want to draw the night out. He wanted to be home with his family, with his wife that had just been released from prison. "First, I've asked Chibs to be my V.P. Everyone cool with that?"

The table came alive with noise that announced the agreement of the Sons.

Jax held the badge as he stood and hugged Chibs. The man had already been his advisor for years, had always been someone that Jax felt comfortable enough with to go to for advice. Chibs drew back and gave him a smile before taking his new seat at the left side of the table.

"You can't be without a Sargent at Arms," Filthy Phil pointed out the obvious.

"And I won't be," Jax replied his eyes turning to Happy- who still looked less than pleased about being maneuvered into the position. "I've asked Hap to fill the spot."

Once again the men around the table started to congratulate their brother, excited about the changes being made.

Tig smiled and clasped a hand over Happy's shoulder. "Good spot for ya, Killa."

Happy just nodded. He stood took the new patch, hugged Jax and took his new seat to the President's right. His thumb ran over the worn badge, a small smile found its way to his face at the excitement around the table. It had been a long while since the Charming boys had seemed in such good spirits.

"Two more orders of business," Jax looked over at the prospects. "What do we think boys?"

The votes on Ratboy and V-Lin were both unanimous. The two men couldn't look more pleased about finally being fully patched members.

Jax shifted as he stared down at Mac who sat comfortably at the far end of the table. He didn't like having anyone patched as 'Nomad' around. "And what do we all think about this one," he said nodding his head at Mac.

Mac's green eyes scanned the table to find all eyes on him. He knew that there would be hostility and he tried to navigate through it. "Look, I know you are all a bit wary of Nomads after the shit that Frankie, Go-Go and Greg did. I get it, I do but I'm not them. You sit at this table with a former Nomad, even promote him."

Happy cut his eyes toward Mac. The kid had grown up in the past seven years, had some balls considering the way he didn't just address the table but his presence commanded it.

"Watch it," Happy warned.

"You trust Quinn," Mac no longer addressed the entire table, his eyes were on Happy's refusing to back down. "You really think I'd be with his 'baby girl' if he didn't trust me?"

Happy hated it when someone came at him with irrefutable logic on a subject he really wanted to shoot down.

"Hap?" Jax's voice was quiet but it got Happy's attention.

Happy looked over at the president who raised an eyebrow. Obviously, he wanted Happy's input. Part of him really just wanted to send Mac away, he shoved that part down, buried it and refused to look at the reasons why. He looked over at Jax and gave a small, but sharp nod of his head.

"All in favour?"

The table was quieter, but the answer was just as unanimous.

Mac was patched Redwood Original.

::

Jax wanted to skip out, but the patch-in party was impossible to get away from. He figured he could spend a few hours, unwind, grab a beer, skip the pussy, and get home to his family.

The new patches were living it up. Ratboy had his face buried in a fine set of tits. V-Lin couldn't walk a straight line if you paid him.

Mac was quieter, already content in his fully patched status- the move didn't seem to make him want to celebrate. He had a couple empty beers, one half full in his hand. He flirted with a croweater who sat with him but thus far had brushed off her advances and only seemed to want company.

Jax found Happy, he sat at the bar though he kept an eye on Mac. "Was it the right call?" Jax briefly wondered if his newly instated SAA was doubting himself but knew deep down that wasn't the case. Happy didn't doubt himself, he had conviction to make the right calls. Jax felt certain that doubt wasn't the issue. He sat on a stool beside Happy.

"Quinn trusts him," Happy replied shortly before tossing back a shot.

Jax pushed a hand through his blonde hair and looked over at the new brother. "But do you?"

Did he? That question tormented Happy. During his time as a Nomad, he did trust Mac at his back, all the Nomads did. Quick thinker, excellent with a gun, good guy to have with you on a run. The only reasons he even considered trying to put Mac down at the table were entirely personal. Happy wanted back into Denialville where he didn't have to think about these things. Every situation that came up recently only managed to magnify the past, his actions and the repercussions.

"Hap?"

"He's solid," Happy replied finally.

Jax nodded with a further sense of understanding. Now more than ever he felt comfortable in his assumption that something had once gone on between Happy and Indiana.

Having no desire for further conversation, Happy grabbed his cigarettes off the bar and left the clubhouse without another word to anyone. He'd already received a call from Nero and had an early morning shift at Diosa anyway.

::

"Oh my God!" Trinity shrieked before she succumbed to a fit of giggles. Laughter came from the other side of the shelf where Kerrianne stocked the candy aisle of Ashby's Provisions.

"That's what I said," Cherry said from her perch on the counter beside the till. She dusted some ashes of the cigarette she'd smoked on break off her black smock. "Here I was thinking I had hit the jackpot with this smokin' hot firefighter-"

Kerrianne snorted. "Pun intended?"

"No, and not the point," Cherry laughed a little. "Anyways, instead I'm just staring at the pink lace thong over his bulge and-"

"Oh my God, oh my God," Trinity held her sides as pain went through them from laughing so hard. "You can't be serious!"

"As a heart attack," Cherry replied. "Which I nearly had."

"Did you still sleep with him?" Kerrianne asked as dumped the Soor Plooms into a plastic bin, a scoop and little bags nearby and the green candies.

"No, I can't take a man seriously with his junk in lace," Cherry replied which just caused another bout of giggling from the young Irish women. Cherry enjoyed the night shift ever since Maureen let up and let the three of them work together. They got all the stocking done, and they had a good time doing it too.

"How did you get out of there?" Trinity wanted to know as she broke a box down and folded it up for the recycling.

"I faked menstrual cramps," Cherry replied causing another burst of laughter from the younger women. "Nothing freaks a man out worse than a woman on the rag." Cherry pushed off from the counter and walked around to finish stocking the last box of cigarettes. "What about you ladies?"

Both Kerrianne and Trinity turned to look at Cherry questioningly. "You two and men, come on, you guys have to have a story or two to tell."

"Nothing of interest," Trinity said in a nonchalant fashion, but her cheeks stained pink.

"Oh, I think it is very much of interest," Cherry responded as she pulled the packs of cigarettes from the box and put them up on the back wall. "Come on, spill it. We're all girls here."

"No way," Trinity protested. "I had a boyfriend once, it lasted like a week but then McGee found out and he scared the crap out of the guy." Trinity still missed her mother's Old Man. She had never called him 'Da' but he had been all she had.

"That is so not what is causing that blush!" Cherry accused.

"Did you ever have a guy you though it would work with?" Kerrianne asked Cherry to take the heat off of Trinity. The blonde woman shot her friend a thankful smile.

Cherry became quiet and her movements as she stocked the cigarettes slowed. "Yeah," she whispered finally. "I did."

"Liam?" Trinity asked.

Cherry shook her head and sighed as she thought about Kip and the short time they'd shared. "How about you Kerri?" Cherry put a smile back on her face as she pushed the thoughts of her former lover aside. "Someone special? Some hot one-night-stand? An adventure to a strip-club? Something?"

Kerrianne had finished with the candy aisle so she walked to the counter and leaned her hip against it. "No."

"No? You're what? Eighteen?"

"Nineteen," Kerrianne corrected. "Twenty in a few more months."

"And?"

"And I grew up with Jimmy O'Phelan," Kerrianne replied through clenched teeth. The thought of the man still made her seethe. "No dating. No going out. No fun, really."

"So, there was no making out with some boy at school?" Cherry pried.

"No," Kerrianne replied.

"No sneaking out?" Cherry tore up the box and tossed it toward the recycle bin. It missed and Trinity picked it up and put it in.

Kerrianne answered with just the narrowing of her eyes and the aura of annoyance.

" _Girl,_ " Cherry drawled out the word. "I have got to hook you up!"

"No."

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes, come on, what's your type?"

"I don't have a type."

"Everyone has a type," Cherry argued.

"She has a thing for tattoos," Trinity offered.

Kerrianne glared at her fair haired friend. "Whose side are you on?"

Trinity shrugged. "Got another four hours of this shift, it might as well be interesting."

"Tattoos, I know lots of guys with tattoos," Cherry said propping her elbows on the counter, her head in her hands. "You are into men, right?"

"Yes, I like men," Kerrianne felt her annoyance rise. She'd go and work elsewhere but the back room was tidy, the shelves were stocked, front had been swept, there wasn't much left to do.

"Okay, what else?" Cherry asked.

Kerrianne gave a shrug. "I don't know."

"Hispanic," Trinity whispered and quickly jumped out of the way as Kerrianne went to swat her. Trinity laughed. "Come on, it's Cherry."

"Yeah, it's just me," Cherry chimed excitedly. "Tell me what it is that Trini knows!"

Kerrianne huffed out a breath, despite being the youngest of the three she felt the most mature. "It's nothing, Trini is blowing smoke."

"I amn't!" Trinity responded with her chin up a little. "When the Redwood charter of the Sons came she might have had her eye on a certain Son."

"Oh," Cherry's eyes lit up as she put together the hints Trinity had dropped. "Juice? Really?"

"Why do you tack a _'really'_ after that," Kerrianne paced a few steps and ran her hands through her hair. "So I think he's attractive," she glared daggers at Trinity. "It's not like I think we'd ever get together or anything. I'm not stupid. I just told Trini that I think he's got a nice smile and he's really sweet and-" Kerrianne trailed off under the gazes of her two smiling friends. "Piss off," she grumbled.

"You, my darling, have a crush on your father's friend," Cherry informed her. She put her fingertips to her temples dramatically. "I foresee a secret torrid affair, quick glances, and steamy stolen moments-"

"Lay off!" Kerrianne crossed her arms at the end of her patience. She loved Cherry dearly, but the woman could be absolutely impossible at times.

Cherry stuck out her tongue but let her hands fall back to the counter. "Fine, but you know- Jimmy's dead. You can do what you want."

Kerrianne's stomach twisted. Jimmy being dead didn't stop the feeling that something still lingered in the darkness.


	10. Lost Souls

Tara had to admit, Lyla had skills in the kitchen. "I hope you don't mind," the blonde seemed nervous now, fluttering around in the Teller kitchen. "The kids were hungry, and I figured since you were coming I'd make a whole bunch." The pot roast made Tara salivate, carrots and little potatoes created a little nest in the roasting pan.

"Not at all," Tara replied, licking her lips. "It smells wonderful." She knew when to let something to, when to give thanks where it was due. "Thank you for doing this Lyla. Jax told me you've been a big help with the kids."

Lyla's smiled shyly. "No big deal," she replied with the smallest shrug of her tiny shoulders. "It was the least I could do with all that's been going on with the club."

Getting a bit of information before Jax returned would give Tara an edge, it would allow her to know what to expect and give her some time to deal with it. "Like what?" Tara asked as she opened the first cupboard and pulled down some plates to help. Ally took them from her with a smile and started to set the table.

Lyla and Ally shared a look. "How about we leave that until everyone has eaten," Ally said looking over to where Abel stood watching the women in the kitchen with keen interest. He had kept Tara in his sights since the glorious moment she walked back into the Teller house. "Little ears," she whispered.

Tara nodded and looked over at Abel. God, she loved her boy- biological or not. She extended her hand and he took it as a signal that he could come into the kitchen. He walked over to her and hugged her leg, her hand went over his soft blond hair. "Hey there, Handsome."

"I missed you, Mom," he professed for the fourth time since Tara's return.

"I missed you even more," Tara replied bending down so she could kiss the top of his head. "I hope you were good for your father, and for Lyla."

"I was," Abel said shooting her a winning smile that mirrored that of Jax. God, the kid would be a heartbreaker just like his daddy.

Piper didn't request permission to the kitchen, he just silently walked over to his mother and grabbed her hand, his body almost hidden from the others behind her lithe body. Lyla turned to her son who looked up at her.

Tara couldn't help but notice the shocking similarities between mother and son. Same fair hair, Pipers shaggy cut nearly hid his ears. Blue eyes that took everything in, but shied away from direct eye-contact with anyone but his mom. They were a beautiful pair.

"You okay?" Lyla said quietly to him.

He nodded.

Tara couldn't recall ever hearing the boy speak. "Hi Piper," she said kindly hoping to sound friendly to the very shy boy.

He hid his face against his mother's leg, his fingers tightening around Lyla's.

"Don't be such a baby, Piper," Ellie said coming in.

"Be nice," Lyla warned the eldest of Opie and Donna's children. Ellie had been a quiet and rather withdrawn child up until her father's death- and then she'd turned angry and moody.

Ellie just shot Lyla a disdainful look and rolled her eyes. "Is dinner done?"

"Yes," Lyla replied. She looked to where Ally was taking out the silverware. She returned her gaze to Ellie. "Could you help Ally set the table, please?"

"Why don't you do it?" Ellie shot back, her voice heated with anger.

Tara hadn't seen much of Ellie since the death of Opie, and was surprised by the attitude from the once quiet and sweet girl. Then again, Ellie wasn't such a little girl anymore, she was growing up. Twelve? Thirteen? Tara couldn't remember. She'd started to wear makeup, her eyes dark and smoky. Her big t-shirts and straight legged jeans had been traded up to some band t-shirt and bootlegged jeans, boots on her feet. Her hair no longer styled in braided pig-tails but in a serious, pin-straight ponytail.

Lyla let out a small sigh. "Ellie, please."

Tara noted that Lyla sounded tired, worn out, like this happened all the time and she just didn't know what to do about it.

"You're not my mother," Ellie said through clenched teeth, and from the look on Lyla's face, she might as well have slapped the woman.

"Ellie!" Tara shouted in surprise. "Help Ally with the silverware. Now!"

It was Ellie's turn to look surprised, she blinked a few times, huffed out a breath and then yanked the forks from Ally's hand and went to set them beside each plate.

"I can help," Kenny said from where he stood by the counter. He stood tall, didn't wait for someone to ask, he just saw what needed to be done and took charge. He walked over to Ally and held out his hand, she carefully gave him the knives and he walked them over to the table to help his sister.

_He's just like Opie_ , Tara couldn't help but notice. She turned back to Lyla whose cheeks had flushed to a pink colour. Piper, as if sensing his mother's inner turmoil, rubbed his cheek against her hand. Lyla gave him a soft smile and ran her hand over his hair. "It's okay," she said softly. "It will all be okay."

::

After everyone had eaten their late dinner, Ally offered to wash the dishes. Tara put on a child friendly movie for Kenny, Abel and Piper. Ellie had her nose in some teenage-angst ridden book of supernatural creatures. She held Thomas close and carried her son to his nursery to put him down for the night. She hummed to him, ran her hand over his dark blonde hair. Every time she saw him, the hair seemed a little darker. While Abel heavily took after Jax, Thomas it seemed took more after her. His hair kept getting darker, his brown eyes curiously studied the world around him, and even the shape of his nose and lips took more after her than her husband. Secretly, she was glad.

She liked seeing herself in her son. Hoped that he would be smart and brave and know right from wrong. She hoped that he would know it better than she did- or didn't. After what happened with Otto, she just didn't know if she fell under any of those categories. You could be intelligent and make stupid decisions. You could be brave and still manage to be a coward. You could know right, and only do wrong.

She stood with him by the crib but didn't put the sleeping baby down. She wanted to hold him for just a while longer. In her peripheral vision she saw Lyla in the doorway and turned slightly.

"He looks like you," Lyla mentioned, her voice delicate and soft.

"I think so too," Tara admitted and bobbed her head slightly in invitation.

Lyla walked in and while standing beside Tara, she looked down at Thomas. "He's so peaceful with you. He never wanted to go to bed for me. He just kept looking around, fighting off sleep." She remained silent for a moment. "I think he was looking for you."

Tara's heart clenched and she kissed her son's temple. "I won't leave you again," she promised him. She finally set her boy down in his crib and walked out but left the door just slightly ajar.

The two women rejoined Ally who had suds up to her elbows as she finished off the last of the dishes. "So, what has been going on since I've been gone?" Tara asked as she walked to the end of the kitchen and looked into the living room, thankful to see the kids engrossed in the movie.

"Diosa is in trouble," Ally said quietly, she rinsed a plate and set it in the drying rack. "A lot of money was stolen. It's cutting into SAMCRO's profits."

"Jax called around to other charters for help," Lyla continued where Ally left off. "Neither he nor Nero wanted to make anyone suspicious so they brought in a woman. Around here, no one would know she's affiliated with the club."

Tara shook her head. Cara Cara, Diosa, what next? Porn studio to brothel. Legitimate income, sure, but it didn't feel any cleaner than the gun money.

"She hasn't found out who it is yet," Lyla said taking a seat at the dining table. "The fact that they managed to get through Nero isn't something that he's taking lightly either. He's pissed. He wants to find this guy," Lyla's eyebrows drew down slightly. "Or girl." She shrugged. "In any case, she's trying to figure it out."

"Someone wants to either hurt Nero and his crew, or Jax and his," Ally said rinsing the last dish. She pulled the plug and the water started to circle the drain. "In any case, that kind of financial loss to the club is unwelcome. Especially now."

"Why 'especially now,'" Tara asked.

Ally grabbed a dish towel and dried her hands before hanging it back over the handle of the oven. "While the contract for Charming Heights is being honoured, they've lost the Irish pipeline. Galindo cartel was handed over to the Lin Triad. For a charter that specializes in running guns they aren't running much of anything."

Tara knew enough to read between the lines. No guns from the Sons meant a lot of angry clients. "They haven't set up another pipeline?"

Ally shrugged. "I haven't been made aware of it, then again, I'm often only pulled in for legal issues. It's entirely possible that they have."

Her loyalty to the club, to Jax had put Tara in a bad place. She wanted more for them, for their sons. Being in prison, the Oregon offer stripped from the table, she realized the true consequences of her actions, how they damned her, how they trapped her. There was no way she could leave with the boys now, there was no way she would be able to get a place to stay, pay for sitters while she worked. The hospital had been a good deal, money, benefits, child care.

A great deal of time in prison had been spent thinking. Jax wouldn't leave, couldn't leave. His roots had dug too deep, his blood belonged to SAMCRO. If she left- he wouldn't follow. If she took the boys- he'd come for them, and God help her because after he once lost Abel there would be absolutely nothing, not even her, that would keep him from his sons. That left her with one viable option.

Step up as his Old Lady.

::

"And take Juice with you," Jax said and put up a hand before Chibs could so much as part his lips to speak. They stood in the backroom, the music playing in the clubhouse was muffled by the door. "Whatever shit is between you two, sort it. This club is falling apart! Diosa took a hit. We lost the pipeline. This fucking charter is falling apart and we both know it, both see it." He let out an annoyed breath and pulled out a cigarette from his pack. Lighting up he took a deep inhale trying to let the smoke calm him. "The other brothers see it to. We don't fix the brotherhood and we'll be slitting our throats from the inside out."

Chibs couldn't argue with the observation. The Sons of the Redwood Original charter were hardly treading water. Funds ran dangerously low. Enemies dangerously high. Anymore tension within the brotherhood and it could spell death for SAMCRO.

He had no idea how he could possibly fix things with Juice, but this was Jax- friend, brother and president asking him too. "Fine."

::

Darkness shrouded the street. Neighbourhood hooligans had taken to busting out the streetlights with stones. Homes were small and lacked anything fancy. Trees were tall, sturdy, old- no one bothered planting anything new. Shrubs were left unmanaged and wild. This was a neighbourhood that two kinds of people called home- the poor and the desperate.

Lyla figured she could be called both.

She worked hard, took all the hours she could get at Diosa but couldn't manage to get ahead. Nero had helped her get clean of the cocaine addiction she'd had during her time working under Luann Delaney. Still; the mortgage, child care, school supplies, and food- it all added up.

She hit her blinker and slowed her vehicle before pulling into the small driveway. "Home at last," she said shooting a smile over at Ellie who sat up front with her.

Ellie just stared. "Keys?"

Lyla passed them to her and Ellie escaped from the car as though her jeans were on fire. Kenny got out too, following behind his sister. Lyla got out and went to the back door opening it and unbuckling her sleeping son.

She heard the door to the house open, light flooded the windows and the door slammed. Ellie. Door slamming was always Ellie.

She moved to pick Piper up but a strong hand grabbed her forcefully by the upper arm, turned her around and shoved her up against the trunk of her vehicle. A big hand closed around her mouth and muffled her scream.

::

For all the teasing the guys did about his computer games, it wasn't all that Juice did in his off time. He'd spent an hour working out, took a quick shower, and got dressed again in jeans. The heat in his sparse little house ensured that he didn't bother with a shirt. He grabbed the large novel off the counter in the kitchen and flipped to the page he'd marked with a gas receipt.

Starting back into the book where he left off, he reached out blindly and grabbed the fridge handle. He paused a moment in mild surprise by the latest character development, his lips moving as he read. Finally he pulled the door open. The cool air caressed his bare chest and he sighed. He tore his eyes from the text, grabbed a bottle of beer and kicked the fridge door shut.

He padded barefoot through the kitchen to the living room. His television sat on a coffee table but didn't have cable. A DVD player sat on the floor beside a XBOX360, cords wound their way around. The set up was an eye-sore but Juice didn't have a knack for decorating. Functionality was all that mattered.

The bottle pressed against the back of his neck and a drop of condensation ran down his spine till it absorbed into the couch cushion. He shot a quick look of ire toward the air conditioning unit that had decided the night before that it simply no longer had a fuck to give about keeping the place cool. "Piece of shit," Juice muttered before his eyes returned to his book. He fumbled a bit, trying to hold the book to his leg with his elbow as he twisted off the cap to his beer. He took a refreshing swig, and then gulped down half the bottle before putting it on the table.

Muscle by muscle he begun to relax, the book- much like his collection of video games- a form of escapism from his own realities. He eagerly flipped the page, his eyes moving rapidly over the text. He leaned forward slightly, hunched over the book as the drama on the pages unfolded.

Being so into the book ensured he jumped when three hard knocks hit his door. His heart hammered in his chest, he pulled the gas receipt that he'd tucked in the back pages and put it in the crease of the pages he read. He put the book down, chugged the rest of his beer and walked back to the kitchen. He grabbed his gun from the counter and walked to the door. He took a second to peek through the blinds.

Chibs.

It used to be that the presence of the man would calm him. It used to be that Juice would become excited by the company. They used to be friends.

Juice knew he had no one but himself to blame for the fall out. He'd put his best friend through the ringer. First when he tried to kill himself. Later when Roosevelt was yanking his chain. _Rat._ It still hung over his head. The reaper on the back of his kutte that hung on one of the chairs in his dining room taunted him. The weight of the leather seemed too much most days.

He tucked the gun into the back of his pants, turned the deadbolt and pulled open the door. "Hey," Juice greeted but the smile never managed to take full form on his face. Chibs looked angry, practically fuming. Dark eyes held an intense livid heat. To Juice, it was like a punch to the gut and with it came the understanding.

Despite the knowledge, the understanding and with those, the new sense of forewarning, he didn't raise his hands, didn't back up and get himself some room, he didn't open that stupid mouth of his. He just stood there as Chibs slammed the door shut, reared back his arm and let the first fist fly.

::

Lyla struggled against the weight of the body that pinned her. Panic flooded her mind, her since running wasn't an option, the fight response kicked in. Her foot connected with a shin, but it didn't do much damage. She acted purely on instinct, she twisted her body and managed to get his hand off of her mouth.

"Mommy!" Piper shouted, his voice tight with fear. "Mommy!"

"Shut it you little shit!" the man shouted and raised his hand. Lyla's hands shot out and wrapped around the man's wrist keeping him from backhanding her child.

"Piper get in the house!" Lyla told her son unable to keep the panic from her voice. "Go!"

The boy didn't move a muscle, he stood with his back against the car door his feet rooted in fear.

The man didn't pay him any mind now that the kid remained silent. His dark eyes turned to Lyla. "You're late on your payments."

While free of her cocaine addiction, she wasn't free of the indebted money she still owed plus the interest. "I'll get the money," Lyla winced when his hand around her arm tightened. "I promise."

With both hands on her arms again he pushed her back into the trunk of the car again, air evacuated her lungs in one harsh exhale. His body pressed up against her. "Tomorrow."

Her lungs still wouldn't cooperate but she desperately tried to inhale. He shoved her into the back of the car again. "Tomorrow," he demanded once again. "Nod your head, bitch."

Lyla nodded and he released her immediately and walked off disappearing into the shadows of the street. Her knees knocked together, they buckled and she crumpled to the ground.

Piper launched himself at her, and despite her need for breath, she pulled her son close and held him tight. She gasped in her first breath and ran her hand over Piper's blonde hair. "It's going to be okay," she whispered to him. "We're going to be okay."

::

Quinn flicked through the paperwork at the bar. He hated doing the accounts. He could hire someone, but that would be both lazy and irresponsible with his money. He could do the accounts just fine- he just didn't like doing them. He scratched an itch on his arm absentmindedly as he looked at the numbers.

For the hundredth time in the day he thought about his baby girl. He told himself he wasn't worried, wasn't fretting over his youngest daughter. He simply wished she were around to do the accounts, she enjoyed doing them. He ran his hand over his face, he couldn't make his mind believe the lie.

"Stop it."

He turned at the sound voice of his Old Lady. Tink stood in the doorway, she wore a black pencil skirt, black hosiery and a black button up shirt. Her hair had always been clipped shorter than his own, styled neatly in a boy cut. Diamond studs from a few anniversaries past glinted on her ears. Black heeled pumps put her legs on display as she walked over to him. He could make out the vine tattoo on her calf through the hosiery. His fingers trailed along the delicate lines once she was close enough.

"Stop what?" he asked her as his fingertip traced one of the leaves.

"I could hear your mind working from the doorway," Tink's hand slid along his cheek in a whisper light caress. "Indiana is just fine, stop your incessant worrying."

"I'm not worrying."

Her eyes narrowed as her hip leaned against the desk.

"Okay," he admitted on an agitated huff. "I'm worried about her."

"She's a twenty-seven year old woman. She's spent time away from home before."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it."

Tink had to smile. Her Old Man was an angry old grizzly when it came to his kids. She knew he still licked his wounds over Brooklyn's proclamation of hatred before she left. She knew that despite his various attempts over the years Sydney wanted nothing to do with him. Indiana though, he'd visited in NICU, and raised her the best he could from the moment she came out of the incubator.

She placed her hands on his shoulders and threw her right leg over his thighs. She settled on his lap, and rocked forward with her eyes locked on his. "I bet I could think of a few ways to distract you."

"Really?" he replied feigning disinterest. He leaned around her and jotted a few things down on the order form.

She tilted her head in a confused manner. She stood, kicked off her shoes, pulled down her pantyhose. She looked over at him, but he continued to do paperwork. In a rare moment of brash impulse she took her hands and in a grand sweep knocked the papers, the pencil tin, two clipboards and a dish of paperclips off the desk. She turned her mischievous blue eyes to her husband who stared at the things on to the floor as if he didn't quite understand how they got there.

"Rane."

One simple word, just his name from her lips caught his attention. He looked up at her and raised an eyebrow. Even after all these years she still managed to surprise him.

"Fuck me."

He smiled. "All you had to do was ask."

::

Blood stained the bulky gold rings on Chibs's fingers. Exhaustion had his back against the wall and he slid down till he hit the floor, one knee up by his chest, the other leg stretched out straight. He panted, trying to get back his breath. The house remained in a hush only broken by the occasional car driving by, by Chib's own breath and wheezing breaths of Juice.

Juice had no inclination to move. He laid where he'd fallen. He could feel the blood drying around the small lacerations on his face that Chibs's rings had cut. Every breath felt like sandpaper rubbing against his lungs. Shame and guilt tore at his heart and his head causing as much havoc to the system as the physical blows had.

A few minutes into the savage beating the rage started to wear thin and at that time Chibs realized that Juice hadn't been fighting back. Hell, the kid hadn't even been defending himself. Juice simply took the blows as they came and stayed on his feet. A few more vicious blows after that realization his rage receded into grief. They had quickly become friends after Juice joined as a prospect. Chibs, while not Juice's sponsor, had taken the young man under his wing. They were close. Chibs had trusted Juice with his family, and they were his _everything_.

The wheezing sound that Juice made every few seconds as he drew in breath worried Chibs. He tried to push it down but without the rage to mask it the worry bubbled to the surface. His dark eyes focused on the young man who stared at a single spot on the floor. Other than the occasional shaky rise and fall of his chest that was the only proof he survived, he didn't move. Chibs couldn't help but think about how eerie it was.

Occasionally, Chibs had nightmares where he would find Juice hanging from a tree. He had nightmares that the fact that Juice had ratted would come to the table and mayhem would be voted upon- worse his kutte would still be marked with the Sargent at Arms patch and he would be the one to pull the trigger. The dreams would have him waking in a cold sweat, his heart hammering in his chest.

Another wheezing breath made Chibs focus on Juice. Residual anger ebbed away. The grief lingered because Chibs wasn't sure he could forgive Juice.

A rouge memory struck Chibs like a semi. The scent of the garage, the weight of the world on his shoulders and Gemma's firm but guiding hand. _'I've dug myself a good one, Gemma,'_ he admitted years ago. _'Jesus. I've got no idea how to get out.'_ There are moments when Chibs isn't sure what would have happened if Gemma hadn't come at the right moment. Would he have made the right decision? Would his love for his family outweigh the loyalty to the club? Would that love have blinded him to the potential outcomes?

Guilt gnawed at his mind. Chibs had known something was wrong with Juice, and he tried to get the kid to talk. He had gotten Juice to admit to his father being black. Leave it to Juice to panic over something that didn't actually matter.

He stared at Juice, his eyes taking in the cuts and bruises caused by his own hand. A jarring realization has him running his hand through his hair. It isn't Juice. There isn't any light, no spark, no big smile or ill-timed joke. There isn't anything of Juice remaining, just a shell- beaten and bloody.

The club is to blame, Chibs's hands balled into fists at the realization. Not for Juice's actions themselves, for only he could have made that choice. No, the club was to blame for the fact that Juice clearly saw that cooperating with the feds was a safer option than going to his brothers. Brothers he obviously didn't think he could trust. Misunderstood old rules and broken brotherhood had nearly taken Juice's life, but it seemed now that it had taken his soul.

Chibs got back to his feet and walked a little closer. "You need a hospital?"

"No," Juice responded through split lips.

Chibs walked into the kitchen, grabbed a dish rag and we it before returning to the living room. Juice hadn't moved from his spot on the floor but his breathing sounds a little better. He crouched down and pressed the cool cloth to a cut on Juice's temple.

"Was it worth it?" Chibs asked, he had to fight to keep his voice even.

This time, Juice's eyes lifted from the spot on the floor and up to Chibs. "The club is all I have." The blood that had dried on Juice's lips split back open. "I thought I'd be excommunicated, and it snowballed and then I couldn't get out, I was dead one way or another. I didn't know what to do or who I could trust. I fucked up, Chibs, I can't take it back."

Chibs stared a moment longer. It didn't fix what had been broken, but it was a start.


	11. Defective Dreams

Jax returned home later than he wanted. The lights were still on, but he knew that the boys would already be in bed. He unlocked and opened the door, he didn't see Tara in the kitchen or in the living room. He shut the door and locked it once again. He took a better look as he walked through.

He checked in on the boys who were both fast asleep. Considering how late it was, he figured maybe Tara had gone to bed as well. He heard water slosh and he followed the noise to the bathroom. The light around the edges of the door beckoned him. He opened the door and had the pleasure of startling his wife.

Tara jumped and placed her hand over her heart. "Jax!" She huffed out a breath. "God damn it!"

"Sorry, Darlin'." A cocky grin lit up his face as he sat at the side of the tub. The air smelt of some girly scent Jax couldn't identify, though he presumed it came from the bubble bath that left residual suds in a thin film over the water. The suds did little to obscure his view of her body and his eyes trailed over her stunning form. "I missed you."

"Jax," she whispered.

He didn't like the way she couldn't meet his eye. "What?" he asked, his voice a little rougher than intended.

"What is going on with the club?"

The question surprised him. "Why?"

"Because I'm your Old Lady damn it!" Her eyes flashed up at him, an anger simmering in their dark depths. "That's why."

"You were the one who wanted to leave," he reminded her, his hands balling into fists. He didn't want to fight with her, not after she just got out of prison, not after he just got back from a long night. He couldn't ignore the fact that his stomach twisted into knots at the thought of her leaving. These feelings, these events- they couldn't just be swept under the rug and forgotten about. It had to be put all out on the table and they needed to see where the chips would all fall. Jax feared they might not end up on his side.

Her hand trembled remembering how she had left things with Jax right before Roosevelt had shown up at their doorstep to arrest her. "I don't want to see you become Clay." The words had rushed from her lips before she could stop them. She breathed like she had run a marathon in a sudden wave of panic.

He closed his eyes. The fact that his wife thought he was capable of such cruelty and underhanded tactics pained him. "I'm not like him. I wouldn't hurt you."

"You hurt Wendy." Tara wished she could keep her mouth shut. Laying in the tub didn't give her much of a defensive position, besides that she felt vulnerable having this conversation naked.

"She was going to try and take our son!" Jax defended. "I will protect this family."

"At all costs?"

"Yes," he replied with no regret.

She took a deep breath, her breasts rising above the water line and as she slowly breathed out they sunk back under. Since she had returned to Charming over five years ago she started to understand more and more of the life. She loved Jax, the life she never quite fit in and she knew why. She kept one foot in a respectable field, tried to keep from the blood and lies that surrounded her. She couldn't do both.

Her career as a surgeon was over, she knew that and it ate her up inside. She'd worked so hard. There was so much she could still do, so many little bodies she could still heal.

Circumstances worked against her. She could fight the court case especially since she got out over the evidence being circumstantial. She could fight for her job. If she did and if she won, she knew that she would have to leave Jax- and by extension her boys because she couldn't see a way he'd let her go with them.

She wouldn't leave her husband, and she wouldn't leave her sons. With her mind made up she felt the tension drain from her shoulders.

"I love you," he said and her eyes rose to meet his to see his honesty.

"Church today," she said as she ran over her thigh and up to her knee. "What was that about?"

His eyes trailed behind her fingertips and he fought to keep from being distracted. "Patching in the prospects," he responded, his voice low. "Chibs is now the V.P and Hap's Sargent at Arms. We patched in a Nomad."

Tara's eyebrows raised in shock. "A Nomad? Really?"

"Yeah, Quinn vouched for him- look, I'll fill you in on everything," Jax promised, "but you either have to put some clothes on or make some room for me."

Tara smiled. "Drop those pants."

::

The house could comfortably fit a family, an average mother/father/child combo. Instead Lyla gave up her room to Ellie, she put Kenny in Piper's room and she took the pull out sofa. They all shared one bathroom, a small living room with mismatched furniture and an outdated but functional kitchen.

Lyla stood in bathroom and pulled her shirt off. She stood with her back to the mirror and looked over her shoulder. Her lower back up to her shoulder blades were bruised. She figured it would look even worse in the morning.

She placed a hand over one set of the purple finger marks on her arms but her hand wasn't the same size and the bruises extended over her own fingers. "Guess I'm wearing long sleeves tomorrow," she muttered to herself.

She stripped down and threw the laundry in the woven hamper that sat in the corner. She pulled on a pale green nightgown and left the bathroom flicking off the light.

The door to Ellie's room remained slightly open and she peeked in. The blonde girl slept soundly.

She checked on Piper and Kenny. Kenny had a flashlight on one of his comic books and Piper laid in bed but his eyes were wide open.

"You boys should be sleeping," she said lightly as she leaned in the doorway.

"I promise to go to bed right after," Kenny said. "I only have two more pages left. I have to know what happens."

"Okay," Lyla replied walking in and looking at the colourful artwork over Kenny's shoulder. She dropped a kiss on the top of his head.

Lyla turned to her flesh and blood son, Piper, whose eyes were focused on her. She walked over and sat on the bed by his hips. She pulled the soft grey blanket over his shoulder and fussed as she tucked him in. "Close your eyes, baby, get some sleep."

Instead of replying, his hand freed itself of the sheets and rose to gently touch the bruise that marred her arm. His eyes looked up at her and welled with tears.

"It's okay, it's okay," she whispered over and over soothingly to him. "Everything is going to be fine."

Piper's lips pressed tightly together and moved to the left. She recognized the sign of his disbelief. "I don't want you hurt," he whispered.

Her heart twisted. She couldn't honestly promise him anything. She had no idea how she would come up with the money by tomorrow. Her dealer and his goons would be back. She knew she was worth more to them alive than dead, but it didn't mean they wouldn't hurt her to prove their seriousness.

"It's just a bruise," she said running her hand over Piper's fine blonde hair. "I'll be okay." She kissed his temple. "I love you, Baby Boy."

"Love you, Mommy."

::

When Indiana woke, she knew that she was going to have a bad day. First off, she had a nightmare where she'd been tossed in a lake with a cement block attached to her leg. The water wasn't deep and she was able to surface only to have the water continue to rise and she kept struggling to keep her head above water. Secondly, one look at the clock told her that it was only three forty in the morning. Thirdly, surprise! Her period had shown up three days early.

"For the love of fuck," she grumbled as she got out of bed. She stood for a second trying to decide what to deal with first. She moved quickly, stripping the bed and shoving it into the washer. She hurried to the shower and stripped off bloody pajama pants while cursing a blue streak.

By four thirty she'd gotten cleaned up, dressed in a cheap blue tank/shorts sleep-set, and put her sheets in the dryer. She laid down on the couch and tried to go back to sleep. Unfortunately zees remained elusive.

She went to the bedroom and grabbed her phone before she returned to the couch. She flipped through her contacts and hit dial.

_"Yeah?"_ His voice sounded groggy.

"Did I wake you?" she asked as her thumb played with the hem of her shirt.

_"No. You okay?"_

"I'm not supposed to look like an associate of SAMCRO, but that doesn't mean I can't call you, right?"

_"Right."_ She grinned upon hearing the smile in Mac's voice. _"How is it going at Diosa?"_

She sighed and shrugged realizing a second later he couldn't see the gesture. "It's going," she replied. "Slowly but surely."

_"You'll figure it out. I know you will."_

She smiled. He never failed to have complete and utter faith in her. "Thanks. So, how is it going at the clubhouse?"

_"I patched tonight."_

Her heart leapt to her throat. "Really?"

_"Really,"_ he replied. _"I don't think anyone was ecstatic about it, but I can make this work."_

Her heart skipped a beat and then thudded away like she'd been sprinting. Mac being patched in Charming would mean her moving here. Of course, she had been the one who insisted they stay in California so she could see her family more often. Charming, only four hours from Red Willow was a prime choice. Her hand shook and she let out an uneven breath. Happy was Redwood Original. She had never considered that possibility when she and Mac had talked about where they would like to settle after the Nomads disbanded.

Mac patched in Charming. Happy lived in Charming.

Her hands started to sweat, but her goosebumps popped up on her arms. A wave of nausea hit her and her head spun. Her throat felt tight and it became more difficult to breathe.

_"Indie? You there?"_

She breathed in but couldn't respond.

_"Indie?"_ His voice was harder, more demanding. _"Are you having a panic attack?"_

She shook her head. No, no, no. They didn't trigger like this. They only triggered when she thought-

_"Indiana, I swear on this patch, I will drive over there right now if you don't answer me."_

She couldn't have him doing that. Her work would have been for nothing. She fought desperately for control. "Talk to me," she managed.

_"I'll talk to you all night, I love you. You know that. Two of the prospects got patched in tonight. You know what those parties are like. V-Lin, he's one of the guys who got patched today, got so drunk he passed out at the picnic table."_

Indiana hung onto every word, her head stopped spinning and the nauseated feeling dissipated.

_"The kid was sitting up and we all just waited until he fell forward. Knocked his head something wicked. Big bruise. Didn't feel a thing though. He probably won't remember tomorrow but I can't be sure if it's from the head injury or the alcohol. How are you feeling?"_

She breathed in and let it back out. "Better. It wasn't a bad one."

_"Maybe you should talk to a doctor, and I mean a real doctor,"_ he said cutting her off before she could speak. _"Emily doesn't count. She's a fucking sex therapist, you don't need that."_

Indiana's heart finally thrummed out a normal beat under her hand. She didn't bother to argue only because they'd had this one before. She knew Emily counted. Not only did she trust Emily with all her secrets, Emily had a degree to back up her advice. It wasn't anyone's fault but her own that she wouldn't listen.

A moment of silence passed comfortably. They'd been together long enough not to feel the need to fill the quiet with senseless babble.

_"So,"_ he said, his voice playful as he broke the silence. _"What are you wearing?"_

"Mac," she warned but her lips quirked up a little. It was nice to be wanted in such a way.

_"Come on!"_

"You know that blue sleep set?"

_"The one with the stretched out top, and I can easily get a glimpse of your tits if you lean forward?"_

Her eyebrows drew down and she commenced an inspection of her neckline. "Well… if you say so."

_"The little shorts that don't cover much?"_

She assessed the garment. "Yeah."

_"Is your hair up or down?"_

"Does it make a difference?"

_"Fuckin' A."_

She grinned as her fingertips twirled a strand of hair. "Down."

_"God, I just want to run my hands through your hair right now."_

"Yeah?" she bit her lip nervously. "What else do you want to do with me?" She squeezed her eyes shut tightly. Did that sound sexy? Did it sound desperate? Did she sound stupid and needy? She shifted uncomfortably and her cheeks heated up with embarrassment.

He groaned. _"I want to kiss you."_

She relaxed a little as he sounded pleased.

_"I want to take that shirt of yours off. I want to feel your breasts, taste them."_

The heat of embarrassment might have faded, but it was replaced with a heat of another kind. She squirmed slightly and her hand fisted the fabric of her shirt.

_"I'll pull those shorts down your long legs. Fuck, I want those wrapped around me when I pound that tight pussy."_

She was hot, bothered and felt uncertain about doing or saying anything. She heard him moan and realized actions were following his words.

_"Are you wet, baby?"_

"Uh… I'm on my period."

The moans instantly ceased. _"Was that necessary?"_

She laughed. "Sorry, Mac."

_"I'm just going to pretend you said 'yes' when I asked if you're wet."_

"Well, technically speaking-"

_"Indiana!"_

"Sorry."

_"No you're not."_

She twirled a finger around in her hair again and smiled a little sadly as she held the phone. "Still love me?"

_"Absolutely."_ He replied. _"You should get some sleep."_

"Yeah, what are you going to do?" she worried now that he might seek someone out to help him finish the job they'd started.

He let out a dramatic long suffering sigh. _"Watch some porn and jack off."_

She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

_"I love you. I can't wait till this shit is over and we can start putting down roots."_

Roots.

She forced a yawn. "Good night."

_"Good night."_

She hung up and sat up and put her head between her knees as she tried to get her breathing to steady. It took her a few minutes to calm down and that is when her pep talk began.

"This is bullshit!" she stood. "So what if Happy is here. We used to be friends. So what? We had-" She blew out a breath. "Sex. We had sex. And then he regretted it." She crossed her arms over her chest as insecurities washed over her. Her lips pressed tightly together in determination as she marched to the bedroom. She pulled open the doors to her closet and stared inside. "Well I'll make him regret being a jerk afterwards."

::

She stood in the doorway of his room at the clubhouse. The green shirt she wore was at least three sizes too big and draped over her lithe body nearly hiding her small brown shorts. He sat up in his bed and stared at her with the feeling that she'd disappear if he closed his eyes.

Her top teeth bit into her lower lip. Her big eyes blinked a few times. She turned, shut the door and clicked the lock into place. She turned to him once again her back against the door.

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before she took a few tentative steps forward. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and sat straight, his eyes trailed down her body, down her long athletic legs to the familiar combat boots.

She stepped up to him and her hand stroked his cheek as he looked up at her. His hands went to her hips. Her large eyes stared at him. His thumbs drifted under her shirt and felt the smooth skin underneath. He stood and his lips found hers. He moved forward forcing her back till she hit the wall. A sweet moan escaped her lips.

He stepped back and she smiled up at him. He stared at her confused. She stood before him in a pink tank top, black shorts with yellow leggings underneath. She held out a little white box and smiled. "I think I've always loved you, you know that? Not like I love the other guys either."

He took the box and looked inside. Her pearl handled revolver.

"No Hap!" He looked back up at her to find tears in her eyes. " _You_ are the one who don't know shit about love!"

She stormed out of the room and he dropped the box as he hurried out following her. The hallway blurred and when he walked into the bar it wasn't that of Charming's clubhouse, but the one at Sanctuary.

A little purple plastic table sat in the middle of the bar. Four chairs were taken. Four heads turned simultaneously in his direction

Little five year old Indiana turned around in her seat, her hair in lopsided pig-tails, she smiled at him and waved.

To her left was sixteen year old Indiana in a jogging uniform. She had a little white box in her hands, her hair braided from one temple around the back of her head and ended over her shoulder. Her face softened by a shy smile.

Across from the teenager was the Indiana he'd slept with, the one holding her arms around her chest, the skirt still ripped, her hair dishevelled, and her shirt rumpled. Her eyes held devastation, guilt and disdain.

The furthest away from him sat Indiana of now. White collared shirt, black blazer, hair braided straight down her back. Eyes met his but didn't register him at all. She simply stared but there was no feeling, no emotion in those big blue eyes. This Indiana stood, exposing the black trousers she wore. "Do you understand, Hap?"

Child Indiana giggled and blew a kiss. Teenage Indiana opened the bakery box exposing a red velvet cupcake with a black smiley face. Young adult Indiana's cries were heart shattering.

"Do you have any idea, Hap?" Adult Indiana looked away and shook her head. Her eyes returned accusingly. "The weight of your shadow?"

Happy sat completely upright, his heart hammering in his chest as the dream dispelled. Sweat clung to his skin and blankets tangled around his legs. He flicked on the light and it immediately ate up the darkness of the room. Somewhere in the back of his sleep-fogged mind he had half expected Indiana to be there. He cursed, rubbed his eyes and threw his legs over the side of the bed. He grabbed his pack of cigarettes from the side table and stuck one between his lips. He grabbed his discarded jeans from the night before and searched the pockets until he found his lighter.

He lit up and took the initial rush of nicotine. Her words haunted him just as much as the look in her eye as she had said them. When he closed his eyes he could see her, pinned up against the wall, her hair a mess, eyes widened with surprise and pleasure, her painted up lips parted just slightly. He took an angry drag off the cigarette but it didn't take the edge off. He stubbed the half smoked stick out in an ashtray.

He grabbed the discarded jeans and pulled them on. He walked out of his room, down the hall and into the clubhouse. The patch party had been wild. He looked around, men and women in various stages of undress were littered around.

He needed to rid himself of the memories of Indiana, he needed a distraction. On a couch, he found two women who didn't have any partners. One was a voluptuous blonde, likely in her late twenties, who'd stuffed herself into a shirt at least two sizes too small but it made her tits look fantastic. The other was a brunette, likely in her late thirties, with tattoos and who looked vaguely familiar.

He grabbed the brunette by the upper arm and her eyes flicked open. "Oh," she whispered sleepily. He pulled her to her feet and she stumbled into him. "Happy."

He nodded his head toward the hallway and she nodded.

In the hallway it suddenly felt wrong to take her back to his room. He dragged her into the bathroom and put a hand on her shoulder guiding her to her knees.


	12. All Shook Up

Juice came out of his room in the early morning dressed in dark blue jeans and an old grey t-shirt that didn't fit too closely. He made a pit stop in the bathroom, zipped back up and grabbed his tooth brush. He paused when he looked in the mirror. Nothing broken, which shocked him. The flesh on his cheekbone was swollen and split. His left eye was a little swollen but he could still see out of it. Nose remained intact. He quickly brushed his teeth and his lip split back open. He spat blood but all his teeth were still there so he didn't complain.

He rinsed and put his toothbrush back. He pulled up his shirt and studied the dark bruises on his skin. He tried to take a deep breath but his body screamed and he quickly let the breath out. He turned off the light and walked out.

He came into the kitchen and staggered back a step in surprise when he saw Chibs at his kitchen table with the daily paper and a cup of coffee. He figured that after Chibs had helped him to bed, none too gently but it was the thought that counted, that the Scotsman would have left.

Chibs's dark eyes looked him over and Juice fidgeted under the gaze.

"Can you ride?" Chibs asked.

"Yeah," Juice replied. "You hit like a girl."

The two men stared at each other. It felt so much like old times that Chibs just had to smile. Juice felt relieved and returned the grin.

"So what is this run for?" Juice asked heading to the coffee maker. He did his best not to show signs of pain as he reached up for a mug.

"It's a day ride. Some toy drive thing," Chibs replied folding up the newspaper. "Jax wants the Redwood Originals to have a presence there."

Juice nodded. They were making enemies left, right and centre. A bit of community service couldn't hurt- might make them some new friends.

::

Lyla had very few options. Her long sleeved dresses had back cut outs. Her short sleeved ones would show the bruises on her arms. She pulled on a teal blue short sleeved dress and grabbed a soft grey cardigan to put over it. It was too hot for such an outfit, but she didn't have much choice.

She hurried out of the bathroom and Ellie went in, the door slamming shut and locking behind her. "We have to go!" Lyla said through the door.

"I need to do my makeup!" Ellie shouted back.

"I need to get you kids to school!"

"Just wait five minutes!"

"Ellie, we don't have five minutes," Lyla argued. "I need to drop you off, get the boys to their school and get to work and we're already running behind because you took an hour long shower this morning so get out of there now!"

"Five minutes!"

Lyla pound her fist against the door. "Ellie. Now!"

"Five minutes!"

Lyla ran her hands through her hair, tugging a little. "Bring your makeup to the car!"

"I can't do it with you driving!"

"Well you better learn. Get out here now!"

"Five minutes!"

On the verge of frustrated tears, Lyla walked off deciding the time would be best spent getting the boys and their gear into the car for whenever Ellie bothered to come out of the bathroom.

::

Happy parked his bike at the back of Diosa. He killed the engine and kicked down the stand. He took off his helmet and hung it from the handlebar. He blew out a breath. Getting blown by the croweater hadn't taken the edge off. Bending her over the sink in the bathroom and fucking her from behind had at least tired him out enough to go back to bed.

Once back in bed though, he'd realized why the croweater seemed familiar. Sure she'd aged, it had been years after all but he'd placed her face with an old memory. Last time he had seen the croweater Kayla was when she was cozying up to guys at Sanctuary. Indiana had accidentally hit the woman with a pool cue starting a fight. Indiana had thrown a right hook that had knocked the croweater right off her feet.

Of course it was his luck of late that he would pick a croweater that bared no physical resemblance to Indiana and yet still reminded him of her.

He'd been wary of her as a child, understood her outcast status as a young girl, enjoyed the intelligence and kindness of her teenage years and was stupidly attracted to her as a young adult. She only gained appeal the older she got. This was some kind of karma backlash for all the shit he'd done in his life. Here he was lusting after his friend's daughter, after the Old Lady of a brother.

He walked to the front door of Diosa and let himself in. He took over for one of Nero's guys and stood in position. He noted the lack of one of the girls at the front desk and looked across the room at Primo. "Isn't Lyla supposed to be in?" Happy asked wanting a distraction from his own thoughts.

"Yeah," Primo responded shortly. He shifted in his stance and Happy read it as unease. "It's not like her to be late. She's typically at least ten minutes early. I tried calling her house phone and her cell. No answer."

Happy straightened up a bit. He and Lyla couldn't be called friends, but she had been the Old Lady of a brother before that brother's death. He didn't want anything happening to the beautiful blonde. She took care of Opie's kids, and frankly they didn't need any more dead guardians. "You know where she might be?"

"I know her way to work," Primo responded. "She bitches about traffic on August Avenue. Figure between here, hitting August and her place, routes are limited."

"You know where she lives?" Happy raised an eyebrow. He couldn't help but still think of her as Opie's. He didn't like the idea of her with another man.

"I know where all the girls live," Primo responded with an easy shrug of his shoulders.

Happy gave a little nod. "Go look for her." He didn't know where Lyla resided, he didn't know the routes she might have taken and looking it all up would take time he didn't want to risk taking. "I'll keep an eye on things here."

Primo gave a stern nod and walked out the door. The heat of the morning was already oppressive but he hardly noticed. Keeping the women of Diosa safe was priority. The girls get hurt, they get skittish, and they leave, all bad for business.

Lyla might work the front counter but she was still one of theirs. Didn't help that his post was right by the front desk, so he spent many shifts with her. Unlike the other front desk attendants she didn't pretend he wasn't there. She smiled at him, would chat about things she'd read in the paper or a movie she'd rented. Occasionally, when it was slow and no one was around she'd vent about the brood of children she was raising. When she was done she'd duck her head, flick her eyes up to him under her dark lashes and shoot him a sheepish smile and apologize for laying it all on him like that.

She'd always been friendly, kind and made the long protection shifts at Diosa a little livelier. His cousin, Nero the self-professed 'companionator', decided he would try to make a love connection apparently because Primo discovered that pretty much all of his Diosa shifts synced up with Lyla's.

He liked her well enough, no point in denying that, but he had no intention of hooking up with her. She was sweet, kind, beautiful but she had baggage and he had no interest in getting tangled up in that mess. He liked his sex uncomplicated.

He turned the corner around the building and collided with a fast moving body. They both went off balance and tried to correct. His arm went around, legs got tangled and they both ended up hitting the side of the building. Stumbling with momentum, he put out his hand to the building and ended up pinning the other body to the wall, a feminine whimper reached his ears as he got his feet back under him. Naturally, they'd ended up stomping on the flowers that rounded the front of the building and half way to the back. Both steady he let out a huff.

He looked down to find his body pinning Lyla's to the wall. He had to admit, she had one fine body. The scent of carnations and sweet pea had nothing to do with the flowers they stomped on but everything to do with the woman. His eyes rose from her chest and he noticed the grimace of pain on her face. "Sorry," he apologized taking a step back but he kept a hand under her elbow. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. She looked down at her feet, her heels had sunk into the earth and from around the toes of her shoes cute little flowers desperately looked to escape. "Oh crap."

He laughed. Her voice sounded as soft as the flower petals she stood among. "Come on." He took her hand in his left while his right hand moved up from her elbow to grab her arm lightly. "Let's get you out of the garden."

He noticed her wince as she took a step out and once both feet were on the stone walkway she took a step back out of his grip. He studied her face and when his eyes met hers they flashed with panic.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she insisted. "Sorry about plowing into you like that. Ellie made me crazy late and I'm so sorry." She realized she was rambling a bit but she couldn't help it. She wanted to distract him, but the look in his dark eyes told her that he had suspicions. "I forgot my phone in the hustle so I couldn't call. Kenny forgot his lunch in the car and I didn't realize till I'd already left so I had to turn back around and go back to the school." He reached out suddenly and she took a quick, instinctive step back.

Primo's eyes hardened her ensemble seemed to warm for such hot weather. Pieces started to add up in the back of his mind. "Who?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"I, I have no idea what you're talking about." She adjusted the strap of her purse. "I should really get inside, I'm late." She moved to walk past him but he grabbed her hard by her upper arm as she passed, his hand over the bruise she let out an involuntary yelp.

His hands brushed under the cardigan and over her shoulders. She pouted but didn't try to fight him off. He pulled it down a little and looked at the bruises on both arms. He didn't have to think too hard to figure out exactly how she got them. The handprints were clear.

"Who?" he asked again. In his eye, no woman needed to be victim of violence. Got a problem with your girl? Talk it out or leave her. No point in beating someone smaller and physically weaker than you. During his childhood, he knew his mother end up in the hospital more than once from the hands of his father. He never wanted to be that man.

"Doesn't matter," Lyla insisted trying to pull the cardigan back up but Primo didn't let her. "I have it handled."

"No you don't," he replied. "This wouldn't happen if your shit was handled."

She felt her resolve weakening. Tears burned and she tried to blink them away. "I've got this."

He heard the break in her voice and gently pulled the cardigan back over her shoulders. "We're going in the back and we're going to sit in with Nero."

Her eyes flashed up worriedly. "Pri-" One dark glance and his name died on her lips.

"We're going to see Nero," he said in a tone that left no room for arguments. "Now."

::

Indiana wore decorative little black booties, loops of studded leather circling her ankles. The black pencil skirt hugged her body and gave her curves. The shimmering red top with a plunging neckline brought attention to her small chest which she'd emphasized with a push-up bra of the same colour. Her hair hung loosely around her face and she felt confident and a little vindictive. The outfit almost mirrored what she had worn out with Jake before she returned to Sanctuary only to have Happy pull her into a back room and strip her of her clothes.

She wanted him to see her sexy, happy, and without him. She wanted him to regret behaving like he did after they'd had sex. This was also about confidence. She needed to build herself up, put up barriers to keep the mere presence of him from hurting her. She wanted to level the playing field a bit. She wanted to make him uncomfortable. She hoped he remembered what she wore all those years ago. By the time she got to the door, she had started to doubt her plan. He'd never loved her, why would he remember what she wore? Why on earth would he remember one meaningless fuck?

_Confidence_ , she reminded herself as she raised her chin, stood straight and opened the door.

She walked in. No one was at the front desk. A guard was missing from the right side of the room. Some of the girls sat along the back couch chatting. Another woman sat at a table drinking coffee.

She was pretty sure Lyla was supposed to be in. The familiar, ever present worry rose to the surface. Once her mind created a pattern for someone, and they fell out of it, she couldn't help but start to freak out. She took a deep breath and pushed the anxiety down to manageable. Her life had taught her nothing if not to master the everyday fear that someone wouldn't come home.

Finally she turned to the left post. Happy stood there. Jeans rode low on his hips. A chain attached his wallet to a belt loop. His t-shirt was white and while it wasn't skin tight it was close enough to give him definition. She could make out a few outlines of his more prominent tattoos through the material. His dark eyes were focussed intently on her and her heart rate kicked up.

He had spent his time keeping an eye on things while he worried about Lyla, but all was forgotten when Indiana walked in like a blast from the past. His eyes went over the tight fitting clothing that accentuated what few curves she had. Her long, muscular legs on display from two inches above her freckle dusted knees down to her ankles. The red shirt clung to her skin and showed off her trim figure and it had a neckline that drew a man's attention. He forced his eyes back to her face.

The sexual undercurrent in their stare was denied by both parties.

Unlike the days before, she didn't ignore him, she didn't walk right on by. Today, she walked right up to him. "Isn't Lyla working today?"

The scent of her perfume hit him and made him want to get closer. "Didn't show up." He caught the concern in her eyes before she looked around. He watched her shift her weight from one foot to the other. Her hands came to rest on her hips. He couldn't keep his eyes from wandering all over her body. His hands felt itchy to touch and he put his hands in his pockets as a physical reminder to keep his hands to himself.

"Has anyone tried her cell?"

"Yeah. Primo went out to look for her."

Indiana blew out a breath. "I hope she's okay," she whispered.

A surge of protective instinct coursed through him. He wanted to insist it would be okay. He wanted to pull her to his body. He kept quiet and his hands in his pockets.

::

Lyla sat in Nero's office with her head bowed and her hands in her lap. Nero sat across from her and Primo stood to her left. Given that she had been one of the girls brought in by Jax, Nero had called the Redwood charter President. They waited in silence until the door opened. She didn't even raise her head, she didn't want to be in the back office being fussed over.

The door closed and she felt Jax's presence before his hand cupped her chin gently forcing her to look up at him. "You alright, Darlin'?"

"Jax, I'm fine."

"She's got bruises," Primo interrupted and Lyla threw him a dirty look over her shoulder. "Check her upper arms."

"Take off the sweater," Jax said. He didn't take lightly to the extended SAMCRO family being injured. Especially when that someone had been his best friend's Old Lady.

Lyla sighed, but she knew she wouldn't be going anywhere until the matter was settled by the testosterone crew. She pulled her sweater down her arms and left it hanging off her elbows.

Jax's jaw tightened as he looked at the dark purple marks that clearly made out two hand prints. "Shit." He shook his head and tried not to grind his teeth. "What happened?"

She blew out a breath. "I still owe an old dealer," she muttered in shame. "I tried to keep up but I just," she paused and took a deep breath. "I just fell behind."

"Someone came to rough you up?" Jax asked kneeling down so he wouldn't be looming above her.

She nodded.

"Were the kids there?" Jax asked worriedly. Logically, he knew if something had happened to Kenny or Ellie he would have already gotten a call.

"Ellie and Kenny were already inside," she told him. "Piper saw everything." Her voice broke and tears welled in her eyes.

"Why didn't you call me?" Jax asked remembering clearly what he had told her at Opie's funeral. "I told you that if you needed anything that the club had your back."

"It's my problem, Jax. Besides, I know about the money missing from Diosa and I know how hard that has to be hitting the club." She knew about the loss of revenue in other areas for SAMCRO but didn't think Jax would appreciate her mentioning it in front of Nero or Primo. "I don't want to be a burden."

"We're barely keeping Diosa running legally right now," Nero said from his spot in the chair. "But what I can offer is protection," he looked over at Primo who gave one sharp nod.

Jax shot Nero a nod. He turned back to Lyla. "Give me the details. We're going to take care of this."

Lyla took a deep breath. She had always felt safe with Opie, and this was his best friend. "The guy who came to rough me up is named Vann. He works for this guy named Oliver Kane."

"Never heard of him," Jax replied. He looked over at Nero questioningly.

Nero shook his head and gave a palms up gesture. "Me either."

"He has a small operation," Lyla replied. "I don't think he wants to get caught up in turf wars, he doesn't have a big crew as far as I know, just a handful of guys."

Jax nodded. "It'll get handled."

::

Primo came in from the back and waved Happy over. Happy walked away from Indiana and over to Nero's right hand man.

"She's in with Nero right now," Primo told him quick and quiet, his eyes flicking to the other girls. "She's fine."

Happy had a feeling that something was being left out but didn't say anything about it. If it was a Diosa problem, no point in dragging Sons into it. They had enough crap to deal with.

"Watch the front." Primo walked around him and over to Indiana, having to look up to her a bit since she stood in heels. "Are you any good with computers?"

"I'm decent," Indiana replied. You didn't get through university without having to complete a computers course- even if it had nothing to do with your field. Besides, she grew up in the generation of ever evolving technology. Given enough time, she could figure just about any program out.

"Need you at the front desk."

"But-"

"Nero cleared it. He wants a woman at the front desk. You're not an escort. You know computers. The job isn't hard, answer the phone, book appointments. The program will already be open. If you have any trouble just buzz Nero."

Indiana frowned. She had plenty to do without being given such duties. She was here as a club asset, not some employee. "Fine." She didn't see having much choice without making a scene that could blow her cover.

Primo nodded and walked back down the hall.

Indiana took a seat behind the computer and looked at the screen. The program looked simple enough to use. Happy took the spot where Primo usually stood by the front desk.

She looked up at him and caught his eye. "Was that about Lyla?"

"Yeah."

"Is she okay?" Indiana asked.

"Yes."

She nodded and tried to avert her eyes anywhere else. She'd wanted a moment of brave sexiness, to flaunt herself in front of Happy and then retreat to her office. Sitting here with him was not what she wanted. She could practically feel his eyes on her. Every inhale was lightly hinted with his preferred aftershave spicy, dangerous and sexy as hell.

Her thoughts started to wander into perilous territory. She tried to block them, tried to think of Mac but Happy invaded her thoughts to the point she could practically feel his calloused hands on her.

Happy kept his eyes surveying the area but it was a quiet morning, most mornings at Diosa were. His eyes kept returning to Indiana. She was absolutely magnetic. She seemed mildly agitated. She roughly pushed back her long blonde hair and he thought about how silky her tresses had felt. The rise and fall of her chest indicated she breathed a little quicker than usual. He caught the way her right hand balled into a fist. She shifted and her skirt exposed an extra half inch of her deliciously tanned flesh.

The phone rang and Indiana jumped. She blinked a few times and tried to clear her mind but the image of a naked Happy was very hard to dispel.

He watched as her hand trembled just once when she reached for the phone. She picked up and put the black corded receiver to her ear. "Disoa," her voice slightly huskier than usual. "Ten pm, you said?" She switched sides with the phone so she could grab the mouse with her dominate hand. "Yes, she is available." She hummed her agreement of something and leaned forward slightly. He caught a glimpse down her top, red bra a little bow between her breasts. "Uh, one moment." She covered the phone with her hand and looked up at Happy. "The girls can meet their clients elsewhere, right?"

Happy, who knew the rules around Diosa, nodded. "Yeah, mark the location in the name field." Nero had once mentioned the need to update the program so the attendant could put both location and names in but thus far hadn't gotten around to it.

Indiana nodded and filled in the hotel name and room number. "Alright, you're all booked. Invoice for the deposit will be sent to your email. You'll need to pay it before it is official." She twirled her finger around her long blonde hair. "Yes, you too." She hung up the phone and sat back in the chair. "This job isn't so bad."

"You'll be bored within an hour."

Happy's offhanded comment about her nature surprised her. She looked up and their gaze met.

He shrugged. "What?"

She looked back down and shook her head. "Nothing."

Lyla rushed over. "I'm so sorry I'm late!"

"Its fine," Indiana stood and stared at the flustered appearance of Lyla. The cardigan seemed far too warm for the weather. She tried to decide if it was her place to say anything. Softly, she laid her hand on Lyla's shoulder. "Is everything okay?" she asked in quiet, reassuring voice.

Lyla gave a little grin and nodded. "Everything is fine."

Indiana didn't believe the woman, but said nothing. She glanced over her shoulder to find Happy walking back over to his side of things and Primo once again stood by the desk. "Well," she said turning back to Lyla. "If you ever need a sympathetic ear…"

Lyla nodded in understanding. "Thanks," she replied keeping her voice discreet.

Indiana walked off but couldn't help taking one last look over her shoulder at Happy. She nearly froze upon finding his eyes following her. She turned to face forward and tried not to run to her office.


	13. Warning

Chibs and Juice walked out of the house to find Tig and Mac on Juice's driveway straddling their bikes while they waited.

Tig's eyes widened at the sight of Juice. They weren't the closest of brothers, but Juice was kind of like a stray dog that had been kicked one too many times and in that way Tig sort of adored him- although, he'd never say so. Juice could be an annoying fuck-up at times, but he wore the patch and if you called him, he'd be there. He took stock of Chibs, who appeared fine but Tig caught the busted open knuckles and put two and two together.

"Shit man, you lose a fight?" Mac asked Juice. Juice's only response was to flip the new guy off.

Tig had witnessed the tension between the once close Chibs and Juice, it had been like a storm brewing for weeks. "You two gonna kiss and makeup?" Tig taunted slightly unable to keep from ribbing his brothers.

"Not unless he grows tits," Chibs responded as he mounted his bike. "Big tits."

Tig shook his head, but understood that despite any lingering problems between the two there was a sense of comradery that had returned.

The four motorcycles came to life and the four men headed for the meet point.

::

Jax strode into the clubhouse with his SAA at his side. Nero had called in another one of his guys to take over Happy's shift at Diosa because Jax wanted everyone he could spare to scare the hell out of Oliver Kane.

He looked over to the bar; Bobby sat on one of the stools, Phil stood by the bar and V-Lin rummaged through the fridge trying to decide on a beer.

"Bobby, Phil, V-Lin," Jax said getting their attention. "We got business."

"What kind?" Bobby inquired with a curious expression.

"Some asshole coke dealer roughed up Lyla last night," Jax informed the other guys.

"Oh shit," Bobby muttered into his beer.

"Is she okay?" Phil asked, genuine in his concern.

"Just some bruises, she'll be alright," Jax replied with a nod. "I want to make sure this fucker doesn't go near her again. He's some low level dealer, he isn't trying to make a name for himself and isn't trying to take over turf. Shouldn't be hard to teach him not to mess with the big boys."

"Let's do it," V-Lin replied over-eager in his full-patched status.

"Where is this guy?" Bobby asked.

"Rents some little shit-hole down Ruggers Lane," Jax responded with a nod of his head toward the door.

Bobby abandoned his beer, and the men walked out of the clubhouse and toward their motorcycles.

::

The toy drive took the men to a community centre three hours outside of Charming. Brothers from Tucson, Nevada and Fresno were already there and had everything packed up.

"We do all the work," one of the Fresno brothers said walking over to them with a big grin. "And Charming shows up for some of the glory."

"Pierce, you shit!" Tig put the shorter man in a friendly choke hold but it didn't last too long before the man tactically got out of it and pushed Tig back a few steps.

"Just can't keep your hands off of me, can you Tiggy?" Pierce shot the men a winning smile.

Tig smiled but flipped Pierce off.

"We're just packin' up here," Pierce told them as he ran his hand over what little hair his buzz cut left him with. "And then we're distributing the toys to sick kids on long stays at the local hospitals."

"Who's running this thing?" Chibs asked looking around. He spotted a few brothers he knew, but more that he didn't.

"Indiana Hills; their president, Jury will be able to give you your assignments."

::

Jax took the lead when they got to Oliver Kane's property down Ruggers Lane. He walked across the small lot of dead grass, Happy to his right, Bobby to his left, V-Lin and Phil taking up the back. He wouldn't allow anyone to harm what fell under the wingspan of SAMCRO. Kane sending his goons to scare Lyla, producing and distributing drugs in Charming- none of that would fly with the club.

His mind went to Luanne Delaney and his mistake of leaving Georgie Caruso alive. He didn't want to make that mistake again but he also knew that creating a bloodbath in their own town would be club suicide. With Lyla under protection he felt more confident. He'd either make Oliver Kane see reason, or sabotage his business until he had to leave Charming.

He got to the front door and tried the handle, unlocked. Jax rolled his eyes and pushed open the door. Three scrawny guys were weighing white powder and putting it into little vials. One jumped up and pulled a gun.

In less than a second Happy stood in front of Jax, his gun in hand and he shot the guy in the leg. The man howled and fell back into his seat.

"Where is Kane?" Jax asked the two guys who were staring in shock at their wounded friend. "Hey shitheads!" Jax kicked the table to get their attention. "Where is Kane?"

Both guys pointed in the same direction.

"Phil, V-Lin," Jax caught their attention and pointed to Kane's men. "Watch these pricks."

"You got it," V-Lin responded with the weight of the gun in his hand.

Jax moved through the house keeping a lid on his temper. If any of the club members truly embodied the 'brains before bullets' mantra, it was Jackson Teller.

They figured the back room held an office and Jax opened the door to find a man sitting behind a desk. Oliver Kane wore a black dress shirt, black pants and a bulky gold watch. Black framed glasses perched on his nose, dark brown hair cut and styled professionally. His eyes widened at the sight of the three bikers in his doorway.

"What are you doing here?" Oliver asked warily.

"Absolving some debts," Jax replied coming closer and placing his hands on the table. He leaned in menacingly. "Lyla Dvorak-Winston. She's in the clear."

Oliver offered a cold smile. "Do you have the money?"

Jax looked over his shoulder at Bobby, disbelief mirrored on their faces. Jax turned back to Oliver. "You must be new in Charming. Here is how things work. You don't deal drugs of any kind in Charming. You harm someone who falls under the protection of SAMCRO, you get hurt back. You hurt Lyla. You're now taking the monetary hit to right that mistake."

"I gave her that snow under the impression that she would pay me," Oliver retorted. Anger seemed to brighten his green eyes. "I was well within my rights to convince her to pay up."

"Fuckin' idiot," Bobby muttered under his breath.

Jax shook his head. "This is your one and only warning. Lyla is clear of you. You ever go near her again, you try to collect, you harm her in anyway and you will regret it."

"Oh," Oliver put his hands up mockingly. "I'll keep that in mind."

Jax glanced over at Happy and just raised his eyebrows slightly. Happy's lips twitched like he might just smile. Instead he rounded the desk in three strides, grabbed Oliver by the throat and hand the slight man up against the wall in a second, the wheeled chair rolling out of the way.

Happy removed his knife and pressed it against the man's throat. "You better do more than just 'keep it in mind.'" Happy warned, his voice low and angry. He dragged the knife down but didn't break skin. He rested the knife against the man's collarbone and enjoyed seeing the raw fear in the man's eyes.

"You don't harm what belongs to the Sons." Happy put just a little more pressure and the knife cut through skin. Oliver hissed in pain. "You go near Lyla again, and I'll carve you up so bad that no one would be able to recognize your body in the morgue." Happy pushed the man away and wiped his knife off on the plush white accent chair that sat in the corner.

"Good visit," Jax said shooting Oliver a sarcastic smirk. "Be smart, get the fuck out of Charming."

::

The children's ward at the hospital was alive with happy faces and laughter. Chibs had made note of Tig's quick escape. Mac had a legion of tiny mesmerised fans as he read one of the new comic books to them with enthusiasm. Juice had sat cross legged on the floor and helped one of the girls unknot a dolls hair. Since then the girls in the ward had flocked to him. Chibs had a couple kids look at him suspiciously, he figured his facial scars weren't helping the matter, so he kept to the back and out of the way while he unpacked a few toys from boxes with Jury.

Juice sat pretty close to the main table, not that he'd had much of a choice. Younger and more friendly than most of the Sons the kids had instinctively chosen him as safest and went to him to request toys on the table they wanted. Now that the initial mad rush was over he helped some of the girls fix up the dresses or brush out the knotted hair of dolls.

"Can I touch your hair?" one of the girls asked Juice and Chib's chuckled. The girl didn't have any hair and wore a colourful scarf tied around her head. She had a big friendly smile and curious green eyes that took in everything around her. She was one of the more outgoing in the group.

Juice didn't care, he smiled at the girl reassuringly. "Sure, what's your name?"

"Lorelai, but everyone just calls me Lori." The girl's hand reached out tentatively before she ran it over the short hair. "Tickles," she giggled and drew her hand back. "What's your name?"

"Juice."

She giggled. "No," she drawled the word out for a few seconds. "You can't be named 'juice' because 'juice' isn't a name!"

"Well, my name is Juan but people just call me Juice."

"Why?" Lori asked curiously sitting beside him.

Juice looked over at Chibs who was snickering. "Well with my first name being Juan and my middle name being Carlos when I was growing up people called me J.C. I got introduced to new friends and one of them misunderstood and thought my name was 'Juicy.' I guess it stuck."

Lori giggled. "That's silly."

Juice shrugged in a 'what-can-you-do' fashion.

"You have drawings on your head," Lori mentioned. "And on your arms."

"Yeah, do you like them?" Juice asked her.

The girl looked a little closer at the ones on his arms. "Some are kind of scary," she admitted. "But I like the ones on your head. They're kind of like the thingies The Flash has on his costume. My brother likes comic books. Do you have any brothers?"

Chibs paused in his work. Juice actively avoided discussing his family. "No," Juice replied evenly and passed another girl back her doll with hair now free of knots.

"Any sisters?" Lori pressed as she adjusted her checkered blue and white hospital gown.

"Nope."

"How about a momma?"

Chibs watched the flicker of pain on Juice's face. Juice shook his head.

"A daddy?" the girl's voice became soft and sympathetic.

"No," Juice replied quietly.

Lori frowned, her big blue eyes blinked a few times. "I'm sorry."

Juice sat a little straighter in his surprise. "Don't be sorry. It's not your fault. Besides, what happened eventually brought me here, right? So that's good."

Lori beamed up at him and she got back to her feet to hug him. Chibs watched Juice grimace with pain from the fight they'd had the night before, but he patted the girl on the back and smiled at her when she pulled away. "You're right, Juice. Just like my momma always says 'gotta look for the silver-linings!"

"Ah no!" Mac cried out and everyone turned. "Not the freeze-ray! My one weakness!" He dropped to his knees dramatically as the one little boy laughed.

Chibs patted Jury on the back and took a leave since things were pretty much done anyway. He walked out of the hospital, nearly getting turned around in the maze of hallways. He waited until he was a good twenty feet from the hospital doors before he rooted through pockets to find his cigarettes. He put one between his lips and paused to light the thing. He sucked in the first rush of nicotine and blew it out in a sigh.

He spotted Tig among the line of motorcycles. He was smoking while leaning against his Harley. Chibs opted to join him. "Almost ready to go?" Tig asked before he took the last drag from the cigarette.

"Looks like they're almost done in there," Chibs replied with a slight nod. The sun cooked the big hospital lot and Chibs felt like his nose was going to end up sunburnt.

"Good," Tig responded pulling out another cigarette.

Chibs studied Tig and then looked at the ground by the man's feet. Nearly a pack's worth of cigarette ends littered the ground around him.

"You alright?" Chibs asked, his accent lilting the words.

"Fine," Tig replied automatically. Chibs raised an eyebrow and Tig shook his head. "The little girl in there with the brown pigtails?" Chibs nodded informing the other man he knew which kid Tig spoke of. "Reminds me of Dawn when she was little."

Chibs felt a lump at the back of his throat. He couldn't imagine there was much in the world that was worse than losing a child, and to have lost one to such unspeakable violence. Chibs's hand went to the rosary hidden under his shirt and sent a short prayer of thanks for his own daughter's health and happiness.

"No, there is no way!" Mac's voice carried across the lot.

"Yeah way," Juice argued back.

"Jean Grey!"

"Storm! Halle Berry played her in the x-men movies," Juice spoke with his hands emphasising his words. "She wins hands-down right there."

"You two done?" Chibs shouted at them. "Stop talking about super-pussy and get moving!"

::

Running always cleared Indiana's mind. Her feet hit the pavement in a steady rhythm. She didn't bother with her music player, the evening had yet to cool and sweat started to bead on her skin. She pushed through the protest of her legs and after a few minutes they quit complaining as they fell into the familiar stride.

With everything going on, her mind wouldn't be silenced. Not even running would stop the gears from turning. After being relieved from the front end station by Lyla, she'd returned to her office and got to work. She almost admired whoever it was who stole from Diosa. They were clever and had done an amazing job at covering their trails. This though, only made her more determined to prove her brilliance by unravelling it.

Happy though had bewitched her mind. She couldn't clear him of her thoughts. She found the entire situation completely maddening.

She pushed her body and panted for breaths as she fixated her eyes on her goal line at the end of the dead-end road and sprinted for it. Her long, muscular legs working for her objective. For a few seconds, her mind numbed, nothing but her and the end of the road.

Her feet dug into the gravel at the end and she slid a bit into a stop. Her hands went down on the medal guard rail as she gasped in breaths. In that moment all the worries rushed back into place and she once again longed for that moment of respite, no matter however brief.

She sat on the guard rail and drank sips from her water bottle. Despite how hard she tried, she knew she couldn't actually run from her problems. She took another sip and put the thin bottle back into the belt around her waist. The trip home always seemed harder, she didn't feel particularly motivated to return to the empty home.

Starting in a walk, she continued to pick up the pace until she was running and her body begged for the release of endorphins the run would bring.

::

The four men on the toy-drive run stopped on the way back at a small diner that had a gas station. Juice was filling up his motorcycle and had waved everyone else in to get settled. He looked small but he could pack away food at a record pace. The sun had just started to set and it set the sky ablaze with the final light of the day.

His prepaid started to ring and he quickly pulled it out. The number was certainly long distance, but familiar. A smile automatically fitted his face. He flipped the phone open as he put the gas pump back into the holder. "Hey, Kerri."

_"Hey, Juice. What's up?"_

"Just wrapped up a toy-drive," he replied as he walked over to the little pay booth. "On the road home, needed to get some gas and something to eat." He paid the man a twenty and walked back to his Dyna. He wasn't too worried about moving it. There were six unused pumps and no cars around. "What about you?"

 _"Just finished work at Ashby's,"_ she replied, and he smiled at the Irish lilt in her voice. _"Walkin' home now."_

He guessed the time based on the position of the sun, and did a quick tally of the eight hour time difference between them. "It's gotta be like one or two in the morning there." He knew that she often worked the afternoon/night shift there. It worried him sometimes that she would walk the three blocks from Ashby's Provisions to the little loft apartment she shared with her mother all alone. "You with anyone?"

 _"Nah."_ Her answer didn't come to him as a surprise. She always walked it alone. _"It's only three blocks. Besides I got the biggest bottle of pepper spray you'd ever set your eyes on. Da gave it to me on his last visit here."_

He sighed. Pepper spray or not, he worried about Kerrianne. He couldn't help it. He spent quite a bit of time with her during the club's time in Belfast when they were working to retrieve Abel. Chibs had entrusted the life of his beloved wife and daughter to him. The fact that Chibs had lost that trust in him was like glass in his wounds.

_"How's my Da?"_

"Good, he's on the trip with me," Juice replied. "Pissed off a bit, not a damn bit of cloud cover during our ride. His nose is a bit sunburnt. Tig is worse off, got a bit tan 'cept for where his sunglasses were."

Kerrianne's laughter made his heart skip a beat. _"I bet it's a good look on him,"_ she jested. _"It'll bring out his eyes."_

"Yeah," he laughed along with her. "'The raccoon,' it'll be all the rage."

She laughed again at his comment and he heard what sounded to him like keys jingling. _"I'm home safe and sound. I should get off the phone before I head in. Ma's likely asleep. I don't want to wake her."_

"You should be getting to sleep too," he commented.

 _"Yeah, it sounds like a pretty good plan right about now,"_ Kerrianne agreed. _"Have a safe drive home."_

"Thanks. Good night, Kerri."

_"G'night, Juan."_

He heard the click of her disconnecting and he stared down at his phone with a smile. She nearly always called him 'Juice,' right up until the time they said their goodbyes. She called him every once in a while, asked how things were. Usually her calls were timed with her walk to or from work and he enjoyed the conversations no matter how brief.

He had noticed the way she never asked him to say 'hello' to her father. While being friends with Kerrianne, he figured that friendship wouldn't be approved of by Chibs right now. He wondered just what Chibs had told his daughter about him, if anything.

Mulling it over, he put his phone back into his kutte and straddled his bike. He drove it the short distance to the lot by the diner and parked it next to Tig's.

He looked in the window to see the three men at a table. Tig appeared to be flirting- and failing at getting with the waitress. She looked amused but not offended. He heard Chib's laugh when the door opened letting out a few other patrons. Juice spared them a glance before he went back to observing his brothers in the diner. Mac said something to the waitress. She laughed and wrote something on a napkin before passing it to the younger Son. She winked and was off. Tig threw his hands up in the air in disbelief. Chibs laughed again and threw his arm over Mac.

Juice felt a surge of jealousy. He was being pushed out and Mac was taking his place within the club. With sharp clarity, Juice realized, he was not okay with that. He walked in and took the empty seat beside Tig. He nodded his head at Mac. "What's that?"

Mac proudly turned the napkin around to show off the digits of the waitress, who according to the napkin was named Katie, and she spelt it with a heart dotted 'i.'

"Don't you have an Old Lady?" Juice asked raising his eyebrow.

Mac leaned back in his chair, his eyes following the waitress around the diner. "Well, what happens on a run…"

Tig smiled and shook his head. "Just make it quick. I want to get back to Charming before tomorrow."


	14. Tethered

Primo sauntered out of Diosa. His eyes looked around the surrounding area while he held the door open. Lyla gave a small smile in thanks as she stepped out. The two walked around the corner of the building and past the flowerbeds that they'd trampled upon earlier in the day.

Lyla held her electric blue purse close. The large bag held a matching wallet, a black faux leather day planner, three tubes of lipstick, one condom, two tampons, a couple of receipts, and an assortment of hard candies. It wasn't really anything to protect, she just wanted something to do with her hands.

Her large grey-blue eyes turned toward Primo. When Nero had introduced them, she'd felt nervous. Primo didn't talk much, he didn't showcase his emotions on his face, or in his mannerisms. He was quiet, professional and mysterious. The scar on his face was a constant reminder of the kind of life he lived. Not that Lyla really required a lesson on what bad things could happen to someone in the life. She'd once worked for Luanne Delaney, she'd been married to Opie Winston. She knew better than most that a club could get its members and Old Ladies killed.

She didn't really know anything about Primo. She talked during the day with him but rarely did he ever speak up, mostly she just got nods of his head to let her know he was listening. She wondered if he had an Old Lady, or maybe a couple kids. She wondered if by being her protection for the evening if she was taking him away from something or someone else.

"I'm sorry," she blurted as they crossed the parking lot.

He turned to her and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sure you have something better to do then to babysit me." Her fingertips fidgeted with the straps and chains that decorated her bag.

He shook his head. "Not really."

Her thumb ran over the cool metal chain on her purse. "No one expecting you home?"

He faltered in his step, nearly smiled and fell back into step beside her. "No." He opened the door to Lyla's white Toyota Prius. "Keep an eye on your rear view," he told her keeping his mind on the task at hand. For the night, Lyla's wellbeing was in his hands. "Don't speed. I'll be right behind you. How many stops are you going to be making?"

"Two," she replied getting into the vehicle. "I pick up Kenny and Piper first from their elementary school and then Ellie from middle school two blocks down the road."

"Alright, make sure I'm behind you before you pull out of the lot," he told her just before he shut the door.

::

Chibs unlocked the door to his little house and walked in. He picked up the mail that had been shoved through the slot. He flipped through the mail as he toed off his shoes, junk, junk, phone bill, junk and a letter. He put the bill on the ledge by the door so he would remember to pay it. He tossed the junk mail in the recycling bin.

The letter in his hand felt like it had a little more weight than just a sheet or two of paper. His eyes scanned over the address as he walked into the living room. He smiled and felt as excited as a child with a Christmas present as he carefully tore the envelope open.

Upon peeking inside, he saw a folded sheet of paper and a few photographs. He ignored the photographs for the moment and pulled the letter out. Fiona had a beautiful calligraphy, he blamed this on the fact she'd spent a great deal of her formative years in an expensive, elite private school. Kind of a waste in the grand scheme of things, but he did feel a little grateful since the lettering did something stupid to his heart- then again- it was likely just because he recognized it as a little piece of his wife.

His thumb ran over the paper and his eyes flicked up to the beginning;

_Dearest Filip,_

_I am writing because I fear the house phone may have been bugged. I will be disconnecting it at the end of the month and getting new prepaids for our girl and I. I wanted to make you aware. I will text the numbers once we have the new phones._

_I'm not sure if the phones are truly bugged or if I'm just feeling incredibly paranoid but better safe than sorry, right? I don't even feel comfortable writing this, after all, it could be intercepted, so I shall keep things brief. I would have e-mailed, but as you know I'm terrible with computers and I don't want to worry our girl._

_Word on the street is grim. IRA is incredibly angry and although I do not know the reasons why, I do know that the anger seems to be aimed at your brothers. SAMBEL has taken hits recently both financially, and personally. One member is in the hospital with minor injuries. A young prospect was found shot up and left in a ditch. It worries me that more than once I have heard that the IRA has a desire not just to hurt the Sons but to hurt SAMCRO in particular. Please, Filip, take the utmost care!_

_In happier news, the loft is lovely. Our girl has settled nicely. She enjoys her job, and has a few good friends. She misses you and eagerly awaits your next visit- she is not the only one._

_All my love,_

_Fi_

He slumped in the seat and held tightly to the paper in his hand. If the IRA wanted intelligence, the easiest way to get that from Ireland would be to bug Fiona's phones and wait for him to call her. She was right, better safe than sorry. There had been no word about the SAMBEL attacks, but this wasn't surprising. It's not like they advertised to other charters when SAMCRO took a hit, but if they were trying to hurt not just SAMBEL but the Sons as a whole things could get very messy, very fast.

He was glad that Kerrianne and her friend's names had been kept out of the letter. Illogical as he knew it was, it just seemed safer somehow. After all, anyone who knew either parents could easily guess exactly who Fiona was referring to.

He felt like he was failing them, being so far away. If something were to happen he wouldn't be able to protect him. He couldn't change these facts, his visits to Belfast were dangerous enough for them all. Last time, he'd even suggested that they take a trip to Scotland and he'd meet them there, a bit more of an expense but there wouldn't be IRA bastards breathing down their neck.

Galen's threat, ever present, repeated over and over in his mind. The one thing SAMCRO had unprotected and within the IRA's grasp was his family.

He pulled out his cellphone and he couldn't tell if it went against better judgement or not, but he dialled in Fiona's personal cellphone number.

It took three rings but she picked up. _"Filip,"_ she answered on a sigh.

The sound of her voice brought him immediate peace. His mind caught up with him and reminded him of the time difference. "Sorry, I must have woken you."

" _Never mind that,"_ she insisted, her voice sleepy but alert. _"How are you?"_

"Good. Just finished with my mail," he replied and then remembered the pictures and pulled them from the envelope.

_"How lovely."_

He had expected pictures of Kerrianne or of Fiona but should have known better. Fiona had actively avoided using Kerrianne's name in the letter, only referring to her as 'our girl.' The pictures instead were to spark memories.

The first image had captured the little café, Kerrianne's favourite, and he would always take her there after dinner while visiting Belfast, they would have tea and the test platter of little cake slices.

The second image was of a church that had his heart beating a little faster. It had burned down ages ago. The picture was old, an original from their wedding album. The little white church with beautiful stained glass windows had been perfect in its simplicity.

The third photograph was more informative. Although the picture was a close up shot of a wall, he could make out a small anarchy symbol- one that his dear nephew Padraic had spray painted on the SAMBEL wall the day he'd been patched. The wall was riddled with bullets. He put it on the table to show Jax later.

"As was the trip down memory lane," he said of the photographs. "And how are you doing?"

 _"I'm fine,"_ she assured him. He could hear a door open and he imagined her up and walking around the little loft in her plush blue housecoat. Another door opening, and then closing softly. _"She's sleeping."_

He didn't have to ask 'who' knowing full well she meant Kerrianne. Fiona wasn't one to scare easily, she also didn't just become scared for no good reason. Her suspicious behaviours worried him more than he could admit over a potentially unsecure line. "Those new phones?"

 _"Later today,"_ she replied. _"Til then?"_

"Yeah." He always felt uneasy at the end of a conversation with his wife. "I love you."

_"And I you."_

::

Lyla stood by the window, peering out from around the drapes. She had put the kids down hours ago, and after an hour of arguing even Ellie was asleep. She found Primo easily enough thanks to the burning end of his cigarette. She shook her head. She'd told him to just come in but he'd refused. She had tried again when she had brought him out a plate of dinner but while he'd accepted the food, he'd refused once again.

She grabbed her pack of cigarettes and walked out into the cool night air, she left the door open in the event that Piper called out for her.

Primo's head immediately turned in her direction. He nodded his head in greeting. She gave him a smile in return and sat down beside him on the stoop.

Lyla pulled out one of her cigarettes and pinned it between her lips that were coated in a light pink gloss. She inhaled deeply and pulled the cigarette away. She held the smoke for a few seconds before she blew it out. "Nice night," she commented.

He gave a little nod and flicked the ashes from his cigarette.

"You should just come in the house."

"No."

"Why not?" Lyla asked. "It doesn't make sense for you to be out here all night long!"

"Yes it does. The street is quiet, if anything is going to happen, I'll know."

Lyla rolled her eyes and took a deep drag. "That's a flimsy excuse and we both know it."

Truth was, Primo didn't want to become involved. He didn't know how long Lyla would need protection for, and while he was fond of her in a friendly way, he didn't want to complicate it. More he didn't want to get involved in any way with the children. He knew about the death of Opie Winston, about the two children left in Lyla's care, they didn't need anyone coming in and stirring up what little sense of normalcy they had. Lyla's boy, Piper also didn't need it.

"I promise not to seduce you," she jested and sent a wicked smile in his direction.

"I feel so much better," he replied dryly but the corners of his lips twitched as he fought the urge to smile.

She laughed and took another drag from her cigarette, she flicked away the ashes and let it dangle from her fingertips. "Come on. Someone is going to think you're a stalker and call the cops. Besides, you have to sleep sometime."

Logically, she was right. Especially when he didn't know just how long this protection duty would last.

He blew out a sigh. She smiled, knowing she'd won.

She dragged the burning end of her cigarette along the step, extinguishing it. "Come on."

He stomped out his cigarette and followed her into the house. He shut and locked the door behind himself and took off his shoes. Living room in front of him, two couches, one pulled out and made into a bed. Kitchen to the left and hallway to the right. "This place is pretty small," he commented. It looked tiny from the outside but inside it seemed almost claustrophobic.

"Well, you won't get lost then," she replied. "Down the hall you have the two bedrooms. Piper and Kenny share the first one. Ellie has the one at the end and then there is the bathroom. Only one."

He processed the new information. "You gave the girl your room."

"Of course. She's a teenage girl, she has enough going on. She needs her own space," she told him. "You can take the pull out, I'll take the other couch."

"No," he replied firmly. "You take the pullout. You've already been pushed out of your room."

"Pri-"

"I'll go back outside," he interrupted. The two stared off in a brief battle of wills.

Lyla backed down. "Fine."

::

The cool breeze brought a light floral scent from the back garden. Indiana laid, curled up on her side the world slowly slipping away. Her breathing evening out, her muscles relaxing, her eyelids closing.

A noise had her heart rate skyrocketing. Her eyes opened wide, but she couldn't make a single thing out. Her mind placed the sound, she'd heard it plenty of times before. Someone had opened the window. She heard someone grunt and something heavy hit the floor. She dove out of bed, her hip hit the dresser and her hand frantically felt along the wall for the light switch.

She hit the light and turned to face the intruder. "Mac!"

"Fuck me," he muttered slowly climbing to his feet. "Why the hell you have rose bushes right outside your window? Do you know how hard it is to sneak in some place with fucking thorns in your knees? One of 'em got my shoe lace and when I yanked free, I fell in."

"And I'm supposed to feel sorry for you?" she shrieked.

"A little," he jested with a smile on his face. "Parked three blocks away, took a trail and blindly navigated the woods behind these houses. Nearly broke into your neighbours place, wouldn't have been my finest moment."

She raked her hands through her hair as the adrenaline started to ebb from her system. "You scared the heck out of me," she confessed.

"Sorry," he replied softly. "I missed you."

She took in a deep breath and the anger drained away. She offered a small smile. "You're lucky I didn't immediately go for my gun."

"Unlikely you would have hit me with the lights off," he decided after a few seconds of consideration.

"What are you doing here?" she inquired as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I can't look like an associ-"

"And you won't," Mac cut her off and walked closer to her. His hands rested lightly on her hips over the baby blue fabric of the unflattering nightgown. "Like I said, I parked far away, I came from the woods and under the cloak of darkness. I'll leave before it gets light, no one will ever know."

He smiled at her and she couldn't resist smiling back. "Besides," he continued his smile taking on a teasing edge. "I know you don't sleep well when I'm not around."

"I sleep just fine," she argued, her chin lifting slightly in defiance. She moved away from him and went to sit down on the bed. "How are things going for the club?"

"Always business before pleasure with you, isn't it," he mused. "Everything is fine. I was out with a couple of the guys today on a toy-run at a hospital."

"Really," she smiled. "That's so sweet."

"The kids seemed so down when we came in but they livened right up when they saw the toys," Mac recalled, he smiled at the memory. "It was a nice change of pace."

She knew what he meant. Nomads were usually called in when the shit hit the fan, not typically ones that attended toy-runs or blood-drives and the like.

He kicked off his boots and took a seat on the bed. "How is it going at Diosa?"

"Slow but steady," she replied sleepily. "Whoever did this is damn good."

"You're better," he replied grabbing her by the chin lightly and pressing his lips against hers. "You know," he said, his breath warm against her lips. "You should burn this nightgown."

"You just wanna see me naked," she teased.

"No argument there," he declared as he grabbed onto the hem and worked it over her head. He tossed the offending garment to the ground and his eyes skimmed over her long athletic body. A smile curved his lips. "I really missed you."

She pushed off his kutte and folded it respectfully in half before laying it out on the dresser. She turned back around and Mac caught her by the hips and pulled her closer.

His hands skimmed down her thighs and grabbed by her knees. She got the message and placed her hands on his shoulders for balance as she straddled him. She could feel it, her mind distancing itself. She tightened her grip on Mac's shoulders in an attempt to steady her hands.

One of Mac's hands curved around her lower back and pulled her closer to him. His jeans were rough against her sensitive skin. His other hand slipped around the back of her neck and pulled her closer. Her lips met his and his hand around her neck loosened. The gentle caress of his hand against her flesh shot a wave of panic through her system and she fought to get it under control.

She pressed one last kiss to his lips before she made a trail along his jawline, down his neck. Her eyes flicked to the light pink colour on his collar and she drew away.

His eyebrows came down low. "What?" he asked a little breathlessly.

"You should have changed your shirt." She felt angry with him, but even more so did she fell angry at herself.

"Why?"

"You have lipstick on your collar." She pushed off him and crouched down to grab her nightgown.

He grabbed his collar and examined it. "Shit."

She pulled the nightgown back over her head. She left him sitting there as she left the bedroom but he caught up to her in the hallway as she turned on the lights for the open kitchen and living room space.

"Indie," he grabbed her arm lightly and she pulled away.

"Its fine," she told him as she went into the kitchen. She opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. She cracked the bottle open and took a little sip. "What happens on a run, right?"

His fist slammed down on the counter, Indiana jumped and some of the water sloshed out of the bottle. "That's it? What happens on a run?"

She put the bottle down and let out a frustrated sigh. "What do you want from me?"

"Something! Anything is better than this," he paused as his anger made it harder to think. "This passiveness. Any other area of your life and you're fucking tenacious! But in this relationship, you couldn't care less!"

"That isn't true!" she hissed her hands gripping the counter so tight her knuckles went white.

"Really?" he bellowed. "I have lipstick on my collar and all you can say is 'you should have changed your shirt.' Are you fucking kidding me?"

She shook her head and ignored the fact that her eyes were prickling with tears. "What am I supposed to say to that?"

"You're supposed to be pissed!"

"So you want me angry?"

"I want some kind of reaction, yes!" He ran a hand through his curly strawberry blonde hair. "You're my Old Lady, Indie. I fucking love you but-" he bowed his head for a second and when he raised it, she found pain in his green eyes. "But most of the time I get the feeling you don't feel the same."

His words were like a knife to her heart. "Mac," she whispered.

"I should get out of here," he stood a little straighter. "Not supposed to be here anyway, right?"

"Mac," her voice edged on begging. "Please."

He grabbed her arm lightly and pulled her into his chest. "We'll talk once you get this shit at Diosa settled, okay?" He kissed her on top of her head before she could answer, and he walked down the hall.

Indiana stayed rooted to the spot and by the time she managed to move her shaking legs and navigate herself down the hallway, the bedroom was empty and his kutte was gone. If it weren't for some leaves and some boot prints she might have been able to convince herself that she had dreamt it all up.

She didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to think about it. She didn't want it all to catch back up with her. She sucked in breaths and willed herself to calm down before it became a full blown panic attack.


	15. This Is Madness

Ally Lowen had worked hard through life. The second youngest of five children of a lower-middle class family she had always faded into the woodwork. She didn't have the strong back of her eldest brother to go into their fathers struggling construction business. She didn't have the looks of her older and only sister, nor the placating manner in which she needed to marry a rich man- her sister had dropped out of all their lives around that time- good riddance, as far as Ally was concerned. She didn't have the athletic drive like her only other older brother, nor the college scholarships that had come with it. She also couldn't be content with the meager existence of her little brother who travelled in a van of all things.

No, Ally had buckled down and studied. She'd gotten her scholarships academically but even with financial aid she had struggled. The banks had turned her down for a student-loan then, even with her parents as co-signers.

Perhaps it was fate, Ally mused as she sat in the overstuffed chair in the small office within her little home. Had she not been born to such a family, had she not been turned down at the bank for the loan, perhaps she would then not have been in such a desperate situation, then Rosen wouldn't have guided her toward the Sons of Anarchy.

Before becoming involved with the SOA, Ally had no experience with a motorcycle club of any sort. Now, she couldn't imagine her life without the constant chaos. The quiet life had never suited her.

With Tara out of prison, she could focus on why the hell Lee Toric wanted her in prison to begin with. She'd called in a few favours but facts on the man were slim picking. Former US Marshall who was pushed into retirement. A couple of charges against him from suspects. History of brutality. Parents and only sister dead. Dead former partner.

Ally could only speculate with such little information, and as a lawyer speculation could come into play but it needed to be backed up by fact. She stood and walked around her desk and left her office. As always, she shut and locked her office up for the night. She went to the front door and checked the locks and the alarm system.

Despite the modest house and meager belongings, she did well working for the Sons. She didn't like clutter and didn't have much time to keep house. Noted once again when she walked into the kitchen and stared at the pile of dirty dishes in her sink. She ignored them, went to reach for a glass only to discover she'd ran out. She grabbed a mug instead and filled it with water.

"What could you have possibly gotten out of this Mr Toric?" Ally wondered out loud as she paced in the kitchen. The move did create waves with the club, most notably Jax. If Toric knew about the Oregon deal, he killed it with this move and kept Tara in Charming. It would definitely put Tara on edge, perhaps he thought it would make her easier to get information out of.

Of course, speculation didn't give her facts, it only forced her eyes open wide. She made a note to talk to Jax and Tara at their earliest convenience.

They needed to have their eyes open too.

::

Nero didn't blow off work often, but he had no fear that Diosa would fall apart without him. It hadn't been a conscious decision, it just sort of happened. Gemma and that mouth of hers could be pretty damn distracting.

The room had become a disaster; the sheets on the bed were twisted and bunched; knick knacks and paperwork from the dresser had been knocked over onto the floor; the stool from the chair in the corner had been toppled; the floor had articles of clothing strewn all around. Despite being a bit of a clean freak, he took a great deal of pride in this particular mess.

He turned and stared at her. "I think I'm getting too old for this," he told her with a sly smile.

She laughed heartily. What a beautiful sound, he thought.

Gemma shook her head. "Not from my position… any of my many, many positions," she all but purred in his ear.

"I'm late for work," he muttered but made no effort to get up. His hand extended only to play with one of the blonde streaks that highlighted her dark locks.

"Late is late." Gemma let out a sigh and rolled onto her side to curl up against him. Her fingertip slowly skimmed down along the scar on his chest and continued down. "But maybe we should get into the shower, can't go to work like this."

"Why do I feel you have an ulterior motive?"

A wicked smile flashed upon her face, and her eyes lit up. "Honey, I always have an ulterior motive."

::

Madness.

Madness was the only word Primo could find to describe mornings at Lyla's. He woke during the beginning of the chaos. It started innocently enough. Piper had come into the living room. Being a light sleeper, Piper soft footsteps had been what woke Primo up. He had the pleasure of seeing Lyla sprawled out on her stomach on the pull out couch. Her blonde hair in disarray, a fan of curls and waves. There was no makeup to hide her natural beauty, her mouth was slightly open and the pillowcase had a little circle of drool. He smiled, the little beauty was human after all.

Piper had reached out and grabbed his mother's hand. He didn't shake her, didn't pull her, just grabbed her hand and held for a moment. "Mommy?"

Lyla sighed and opened her eyes. It took a moment, Primo observed, until she seemed to become fully aware. She grimaced, wiped her mouth and sat up to catch his eye. Her cheeks turned pink and he held back a smile.

"Mommy," Piper said a little more insistently, but no less quiet.

"Um, yes baby?" She said turning toward her young son.

"Ellie took the bathroom. She's in the shower. I have to…" the kid did a little dance but didn't say anything more.

Primo watched as fury flashed on Lyla's face. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Did you knock?"

Piper nodded. "She said, 'go away.'"

Lyla pushed off the blankets. "She knows the rules," Lyla ranted to herself. "The boys go in first." And she was down the hall.

Primo heard the three loud bangs on the door. A few minutes passed and he imagined that Lyla was trying to talk reason with the girl. He looked to Piper who wiggled a little in his place, poor kid looked about ready to burst.

"Why don't you go outside?" Primo asked him.

The kid turned to him with the same strikingly blue eyes his mother had, those eyes then flicked to the sliding glass doors to the small back yard. The kid bit his bottom lip and he shook his head.

There was a strangled scream of frustration right before the yelling started. "Ellie Mary Winston get your ass out of that shower right this instant!"

"I was here first!" Ellie shouted back, her voice slightly muffled by the door.

"The boys need in there first, they're younger!"

"They can wait!"

"No they can't, now get out of the shower! Now!"

The water stopped and a second later the door opened and slammed into the doorstopper. "Happy?" Ellie shouted heatedly.

Primo couldn't hear what they said, but could tell the two women were still arguing at the end of the hall.

"Oh fuck off," he heard Ellie say and then a door slam.

Lyla came in looking exhausted, her hand went to her son's head. "Bathroom is free, sweetie."

He hurried off down the hall and the door shut quietly.

"Why wouldn't he just go outside if he had to go so bad?" Primo asked. He was considering doing that himself figuring he'd be the last on the bathroom roster but for now the couch was shockingly comfortable.

Lyla sat down on her bed and put her head in her hands. "He's shy, figures someone might see him." She sighed and her shoulders lifted and sagged in a small shrug. "I get Piper and Kenny in the bathroom first, get them ready for school- then Ellie can take her sweet ass time as always."

"And you?"

"I usually get up earlier," she admitted sheepishly. "I forgot to set my alarm." She blew out a breath and stood. "I have to make breakfast. Any preferences?"

"Nope," he pushed up and headed for the back door.

By the time he'd taken a leak and had the first of his cigarettes for the day he headed back into the house. The scent of coffee greeted him and he made a beeline for the kitchen.

Lyla nearly walked into him and she quickly turned and raised the bowl of cereal, sloshing some of the milk out of the bowl. "Shoot, watch your step," she told him.

Instead, he watched her as he went and washed his hands. She set the bowl down in front of Kenny. "Thanks Lyla," he said politely before grabbing his spoon and digging in. The kettle started to scream and Lyla sidestepped the spilt milk and took the kettle from the stovetop and poured the hot water in a bowl of instant oatmeal and stirred until it was the right consistency.

Primo decided that Lyla's powder blue nightgown wasn't sexy but practical. The differences between her in that home and her at Diosa were surprising. At Diosa she was some fantasy object, here she was just Lyla.

She brought the oatmeal over to Piper. "Thank you," he whispered before he started to push it around a bit.

"Cereal, oatmeal or toast?" She asked him.

"I can get it," he told her. "Why don't you get ready?"

"But Ellie-"

"I can handle her."

She raised a disbelieving eyebrow. He almost smiled.

"Go," Primo ordered. "I don't want to be late."

She offered a small grin. "Thanks," she said and then hurried off.

Ellie came in a few minutes later. Too much perfume, too much makeup, too few clothes. Blonde hair had been straightened, eyes lined with dark eyeliner and lashes darkened with mascara and finished up with dark red lipstick. Her shorts showed off her legs and the flimsy white material that showed three inches of midriff could hardly even qualify as a shirt.

She looked to the two boys who were eating breakfast, Kenny talking about his comic book and Piper listening intently. She then turned to Primo, her eyes narrowing. He'd been there when Lyla had given the kids the rundown- 'this is Primo, he's going to stay with us for a while.' He'd also heard through the open window when she'd explained a little more to her son-'Don't worry, Piper. Primo is here to protect us. You'll be safe.' She had decided that the kids didn't need more on their plate. She wanted to keep it as simple as possible.

"So-"

"Go change," he commanded without allowing her to continue her statement or question.

"You can't-"

"I said go change," Primo demanded. She looked like a little jailbait whore and knew damn well it was an argument with Lyla waiting to happen. He figured he could save them all a bit of time.

The tone of his voice had gained the attention of the two boys who watched the situation carefully.

"Go," Primo ordered once again.

"You can't tell me what to do!" Ellie's voice reflected her disbelief.

"He can so." Primo was surprised to hear it be Piper who spoke up for him. "He's protecting us!"

"What is going on in here?" Lyla asked as she came in with her hair wet. She wore a hot pink pencil skirt and black blouse with gold buttons. A golden necklace hung a little rose pendant in the curve of her collarbone. It unsettled him, how beautiful he always found her- even in the unflattering nightgown or sprawled out drooling in bed.

"Protecting us? He's a bodyguard?" Ellie's eyes widened and she whirled around on Lyla. "Just what did you do?"

Lyla straightened up, preparing for the impending fight. "Boys, grab your backpacks."

Piper abandoned his breakfast and hurried off. Kenny was a little slower, he looked at Lyla and Primo in turn and then he turned to his sister. He shook his head before he followed after Piper.

"What the hell is going on?" Ellie questioned with her hands on her hips.

"I'll discuss this with you once you have something school appropriate on," Lyla replied evenly.

"Jesus!" Ellie paced the kitchen. "Jesus, what the hell did you get us into?" She stopped pacing and her eyes narrowed accusingly at Lyla. "What did you do?" Ellie paced back and poked her finger into Lyla's chest.

"Ellie, please, go get dressed," Lyla's voice remained even but it was obvious even her patience was getting pushed to the brink.

"What, are you fucking someone in the club?"

"Jesus Christ!" Lyla exclaimed, horror written on her face. "Ellie, language!"

"Are you-"

"No!" Lyla shouted back. "I'm not with anyone!"

"Like you'd know a relationship anyway," Ellie muttered. "Whore."

Lyla looked like she'd been slapped in the face and Primo had had enough. Before he could say anything though Lyla had grabbed Ellie roughly by the arm and had started to drag her toward the hallway. "Get dressed, now!"

Ellie wrenched her arm free. "You're not my mother!"

"No, I'm not," Lyla replied coldly, her voice quiet and her body primed with murderous rage as she stepped into the girl. "Your mother is dead." Ellie gasped and took a step back. "Just like your father." Pain had seeped into Lyla's voice at the mention of her late husband but the coldness hadn't left. "They're dead, they're gone and the only person willing to take you and your brother in was me. So, instead of dishonouring your parents by behaving like a little bitch, show yourself and them some respect and get in your room and get dressed right fucking now."

Ellie's eyes welled with tears but she didn't let them fall, she just walked right around Lyla and down the hall. The door shut and Lyla nearly crumpled. She pressed her hands into the counter and leaned heavily into it. "Fuck me," she muttered miserably.

Primo stood beside her and filled up two mugs of coffee. He slid one along the counter by his fingertip to her. She looked over at him and gave him a small and fragile smile.

"So," he said breaking the silence. "Just a typical morning here?"

"Pretty much," she murmured.

Oh yes, it was nothing short of madness.

::

"I don't know," Indiana admitted over the phone with a small sigh. "I don't think some of the money was ever logged in the first place, but some was, and then was transferred and then some was allotted for payment for one thing or another but the manifests and documents confirm a significantly smaller payment. This is a clusterfuck."

Tink's laughter made Indiana smile. _"Oh honey, it sounds like a disaster."_

"It is," she swivelled in her chair and stood. The office inside of Diosa was classy for sure, but there was something about the backroom of Sanctuary that seemed more productive to Indiana.

Indiana just wanted to get the job done. As if the fight with Mac hadn't been enough to put her at sorts, Happy was on security duty out front. She hadn't acknowledged him when she'd walked by. She couldn't. In her eyes, it would be a sort of betrayal to Mac. She didn't sleep with Happy but the thoughts she'd had about him made her feel lowly and wrong.

_"Indie?"_

"Yeah?"

 _"You got quiet,"_ Tink pointed out. _"Is everything okay?"_

"Yeah, just lots of numbers in my brain."

Indiana heard what she referred to as the 'disbelieving hum,' a little sound Tink made that said 'bullshit.'

"It's nothing, Mom," Indiana insisted. "I need to get back to work."

 _"If it were nothing, you'd tell me,"_ Tink informed her crisply. _"So it is important, and more, it's close to the heart."_

Indiana chewed on her lower lip and her grip tightened around the phone.

_"I am here, whenever you need me. You know that, don't you?"_

"Of course," Indiana sighed and dropped back down into her chair.

_"Follow your heart, Indie. You'll be disappointed otherwise."_

Indiana smiled a little sadly. "My heart might be the problem. Its lead me astray before."

_"Or maybe you just can't see yet that this is exactly where you're supposed to be."_

"Mom, did you know right away that you were meant to be with Dad?" She asked timidly.

She heard the intake of breath and waited through the quiet deliberation. _"There can't be much worse than losing a woman you love, especially when that woman was pregnant with your child,"_ Tink's voice was calm and clear but Indiana could hear the trace of pain in it. _"Your father was in a tough spot. I lost your mother, I tried but I couldn't keep her alive. The best I could do was save you."_

"And you did." Indiana rarely ever gave her biological mother any thought. Cold, perhaps, but Indiana felt no connection to the woman who had carried her for eight months. Tink though had saved her life, come into it as a friend and then as a mother figure. Although Indiana usually called Tink by her nickname, she still considered her 'mom.'

_"Naturally, things were pretty rough for your father at that time. He didn't have anyone who really knew kids and once while Martha was away he ran out of options, finally called me. We became friends and, well, you know the rest."_

"But did you know?" Indiana pestered.

_"There was something. Interest, lust perhaps at first. Or maybe it really was love at first sight. Years don't really make us any better at these sort of things. Play your hand, Indie. Go all in. It's the best advice I can give you. I played for keeps with your father, came out with the jackpot."_

Indiana smiled at the metaphor. "I really should get back to work."

_"Me too, I got to get this order in. Love you."_

"Love you too. Tell Dad I say 'hi.'"

_"I will, but you best call him sometime soon. I can just tell he misses you something fierce."_

Being the 'daddy's girl' that she'd always been, she knew that call would happen sooner rather than later. "I will."

They disconnected and Indiana returned to the structure and comfort of her numbers.

::

Primo had been watching Lyla work for an hour. At about quarter past she'd gotten this little worried face. At twenty past she started looking at her clock more frequently. At half past she appeared agitated and kept looking at the phone.

He couldn't take it anymore. "What?"

"What, what?" She asked in return raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Half hour has passed since we got here. You're antsy. What's up?" he queried. "Is it something Ellie said?"

"No, no. I'm sure it's nothing," Lyla bit her bottom lip. She looked around and then waved him behind her desk.

Primo pulled away from the wall and walked around the desk. She tapped on her computer screen. He put one hand on the desk, the other on the back of her chair and he leaned down over her shoulder to look. She smelt wonderful. He put it out of his mind and stared at the long list of names, and times.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Irina had an appointment last night. Not in house," Lyla pointed to the specific appointment. The name of the hotel and room number were logged instead of the name.

"Yeah, Nero's been talking about getting this updated so you could also fit the client name in when the appointment takes place elsewhere."

"She was supposed to be here a half hour ago," Lyla whispered turning her head so her worried eyes met his dark ones. "She never checked in."

Primo glanced at the time, nearly twelve hours between the start of the appointment and now. "Shit. Don't you usually keep a list of clients for all the girls?"

"Yes, but-"

"Where is it?"

"It won't help. I didn't make this appointment so I wouldn't have written the clients name down."

Primo had a horrible feeling. "What time was the appointment logged?"

Lyla brought up the information and Primo swore. He had told Indiana to watch the computers at that time. She wouldn't know who Joshua Manning is, or know anything about his borderline obsession with Irina.

"Start calling her phones, home and personal numbers," Primo ordered. "I'll tell Nero."

He hurried off, moved around the girls, clients who'd spent the night and went right into Nero's office without knocking. He looked around in confusion when he didn't spot his cousin anywhere in the room. He cursed loudly and slammed the door behind him.

::

Nero pulled his grey shirt over his head. The collar got a bit damp since his hair was still wet from the long and hot shower he'd just taken. He looked over his shoulder in time to watch Gemma pull a short sleeved button up onto her arms. She started to do up the buttons but her eyes caught his, a wicked gleam in them as she slowly did up the buttons in a sort of reverse-striptease.

When she was done, he could still see the crow tattoo over her chest, and the scar from her heart surgery as well as the lovely curves of her breasts. God bless low cut tops.

His phone rang. He thought about ignoring it, but was already late enough and didn't want Primo- the infuriatingly punctual- to start worrying. He could admit though, that infuriating punctuality had saved his ass on a few occasions.

Nero grabbed the phone and hit the talk button. "I'm already on my way."

 _"Irina never clocked in,"_ Primo told him.

"Who was she with?" Nero demanded to know.

A soft curse came through over the line. _"I talked to Indiana. She watched the front desk while we were talking to Lyla. She only made two appointments. She said one of them was for a Joshua Manning."_

"Son of a bitch! I'll be there in ten."

::


	16. Flicker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Aoife is pronounced EE-fa. 'That's a fret' is a statement of disbelief.

After Tara had blown off her own homecoming party, Gemma had decidedly stayed off the scene. She needed to see where the chips had fallen. Of course, Gemma wouldn't back down, she sure as hell wouldn't let the little tart take her family but she knew she needed to play her cards right or she risked losing it all.

Gemma wanted to start things off on the right foot now that that little prison trip had killed Tara's Oregon deal. She planned her daughter-in-law a nice little shindig, got Jax to take the boys to Lyla so she could get everything done. Of course, it all went to waste since Tara blew the entire thing off, and then Jax went and patched in a few of the club members. She recalculated and figured that giving Tara some room to breathe, would work out best in her favour.

At the beginning, she thought it would be difficult to stay away and give that distance especially after helping out with the boys as often as Jax would let her while Tara had been locked up. Turned out that the days just slipped away while she enjoyed Nero's company.

It had been a long time since she'd smiled, _really_ smiled. A long time since she'd laughed and meant it. A long time since she'd been wanted and needed, desired and loved. She found the entire experience with Nero to be more thrilling and emotionally fulfilling than her first two marriages. With the excitement of such an overwhelming love came the stark fear of losing it.

She walked around Nero's one bedroom apartment. Sparsely decorated, small and dull, not to her tastes at all. She'd entertained the idea of asking him to move in with her, but it felt wrong to have him in the house she'd shared with Clay. Hell, it felt wrong walking around in it herself. She kept waiting for the call, the one that either the prison or Jax would make to tell her that it was done, that Clay Morrow was no more. Part of her would rejoice. Another part, a darker part that had truly loved him would die. Until that time, she couldn't stay at Nero's on a permanent basis, and couldn't move on from the home she'd once shared with her second husband.

She thought of the lovebirds at Diosa, Carl and Carla, and smiled. Sometimes death brings a new beginning. The death of Clay Morrow would be hers.

::

"No." Happy's response was firm and absolute.

"We have no idea where Irina is," Nero argued back as he paced the space in his spacious office. Irina had a great client base, continuous income but his desire to find her stemmed more from his own personal failure to get the system up to speed and keep his girls safe. Something like this could cripple Diosa, if the girls started to get scared to go out, business could collapse completely. "We need to get close to him."

"You really think he will go for this?" Primo asked his cousin, disbelief colouring his voice. He crossed his arms over his chest as he mulled over their current predicament. He didn't like the fact that no one could get a hold of or find Irina. A clerk had seen Irina arrive at the meeting spot but got busy and couldn't say what happened to her.

Primo hated that Joshua Manning had her. When Irina had started to come back nervous, and explained that her 'John' had become more and more obsessed they had all started to see him as a problem. Especially when Irina showed them the pictures he'd taken of her on her day off, some even through the window of her home. Primo himself had taken a handful of guys to warn Joshua Manning off, the man had been blacklisted from Diosa, and they'd paid for the expenses of moving Irina into a new home. She should have been safe.

"Wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't," Nero shot back. He couldn't turn down the anger that raged through him.

"Not an option," Happy interjected, his hands balling into fists at his sides. The fact that they wanted Indiana to go out and try to entice this bastard had him fuming. "Think of something else."

"This is partially her mistake," Nero started and Primo quickly got between his cousin and the Son's SAA who had taken a few steps forward and looked ready to start swinging.

"She didn't know," Primo defended the woman quickly. He had an honourable sense of fair play, it got a little skewed to fit the world he lived in but he had a gift for seeing both sides. "We asked a favour of her, and the repercussions of what happened are on us."

Indiana had been standing in the office since the beginning of the discussion. Everyone seemed to want to debate about her; Nero wanting her to go in and sucker Joshua Manning into somehow discovering where Irina was being held; Happy wanted her to stay completely out of it and Primo seemed to just be playing referee between the two.

She'd grown up with 'Alpha' males surrounding her. Neanderthals, she often thought of them as. Cavemen beating their chests and having pissing contests. Most didn't ask for the opinion of a woman, they didn't want it. The men in her life had a way of working things out themselves with their brothers, they tucked the women away for safekeeping. Sometimes, she appreciated the worry. Sometimes she appreciated being put in a seat and told to stay put, told to stay safe. Sometimes it made her feel loved.

This wasn't one of those times. This involved her, she wished someone would ask her opinion. She tried not to feel guilty, like Primo said, the system was flawed and the blame fell to Nero's shoulders. Who carried the blame didn't matter, getting the woman back safe did. If she could do something, if she could make a difference and she didn't go for it and something did happen to the woman she'd never forgive herself.

"Anyone want my input?" Indiana muttered like a grumpy child that had been ignored too long.

"No," Happy replied immediately. His eyes narrowed darkly at Nero.

"I want to help her," Indiana shouted so there could be no mistake about what she said. When Happy turned to finally look at her she snapped; "You don't get a say in this Hap!" She then turned to Nero. "What do you need me to do?"

"You work here as an asset of the Sons," Happy interjected. He grabbed her arm tightly and pulled her toward him. "Which means you're going to stay here, _safe_ , and do the damn job you were brought in to do."

"I'm the one who set her up with this creep, Hap," she whispered heatedly. She felt some sense of responsibility toward Irina since she'd been the one to take the call, she needed to help get the woman back. "I have to do something!"

"This isn't your fault," he growled, his grip on her arm tightened.

"Maybe, but what I do isn't your decision!" She tried to yank her arm back but his crushing grip didn't even loosen.

The door opened and everyone turned. "Jesus Christ," Jax muttered taking in the scene before him. Nero looked furious, Primo agitated and Happy had Indiana's arm in a hold. "What the hell is going on?"

Nero quickly gave Jax the rundown of what happened to Irina. "We want Indiana to go find him and try to figure out where the hell Irina is."

"How the hell would she manage that?" Jax asked, he shook his head. "And why would he even be out if he has got the girl of his dreams locked up somewhere."

"Actually, Manning will be attending a charity auction tonight," Primo replied. He walked over to the desk and picked up a sheet of paper with the timetable. "His family hosts it. He has to be in attendance."

"And Indiana is exactly his type," Nero continued. "They could pass as sisters."

Indiana remembered the woman she had eaten lunch with, their conversation had been brief but even she had thought that they had a striking resemblance. Best to play it in their favour to get the woman back.

Her eyes trailed down to where Happy's hand still gripped her arm. Her heart clenched almost painfully for what they had once been. There had been a time where at the very least they had been friends- or perhaps he had just put up with her because of just who her father is.

"This is dangerous." Jax's hands rested on his hips. He didn't like the idea of putting Indiana Quinn in such a bad situation. Rane Quinn was not a man you wanted on your bad side. Still, they had to do something to get Irina back.

"I can do this," Indiana argued but she didn't turn to Jax, instead she looked right up at Happy. It felt imperative to her that she had Happy's blessing. If she could convince him, Jax would likely listen. "I can do this."

"We will keep an eye from a distance," Nero informed her. "We'll keep you safe."

"I bet I can get a wire so we can hear what is going on," Jax said. He wanted the best odds of getting both girls out unharmed. "I'll call Unser."

"Quinn is not going to be happy about this," Happy muttered looking down at Indiana. She had a pleased smile on her face upon his reluctant agreeance.

She blew her long bangs out of her big blue eyes and then grimaced when his words really hit her. "Please don't tell my dad."

Her words came right from her youth and Happy almost smiled remembering just how many secrets he'd kept from Quinn for her. He shook his head, last thing he wanted was to explain to Rane Quinn why his little girl was going to try and meet up with a man who stalked and kidnapped an escort.

Happy looked over at his President. "I will be on that protection detail."

Jax stared for a moment at the look of determination on the SAA's face. The determination wasn't alone, and it took a moment for Jax to recognize signs of worry on Happy's face.

Jax's eyes flicked over to Indiana, and to where Happy's hand still had a grip on her arm. Not for the first time, he wondered just what the heck happened between the two of them. He didn't want to jump to conclusions but Happy wasn't doing this just because of whose daughter she was. There was something much more between the two of them and he worried that it would cause problems in the future.

For now, he needed to worry about Diosa and getting the girl back. They needed the legitimate income badly. Despite the fact that he worried over Happy's ability to keep emotionally neutral around Indiana, a thing he thought he'd never worry about, he nodded and looked over at Nero. "You heard the man."

::

Chibs turned off his motorcycle that he'd pulled onto the side of the road. He quickly took out his vibrating cell phone and answered. "Yes?"

_"Save this number, Love."_

"Fi," he smiled as the affectionate shortened form of his wife's name left his lips. He sat back comfortably, still straddling his bike. "So this line is secure?"

" _Yes, brand new,"_ she insisted. _"It's good to hear your voice."_

"Good to hear yours." He loved the lilts in her voice, the softness of it. Despite everything with the club, he always found peace during their chats. "How are you and our girl?"

_"We're doing well. I'm eager for your next visit. Kerri too, girl won't stop talking about that café you always take her to."_

"She loves her sweets."

_"That she does."_ Fiona responded. He heard something muffled, likely Fiona talking with her hand over the microphone. _"Oh for the love of-"_

More rustling and then a new breathless voice came on the line. _"Da! Hey!"_

He ran his hand through his hair. The sound of his daughter's voice pulled on his heartstrings. God, he missed his girls in such a way he physically ached. The brief phone calls kept him sane between visits that always felt short-lived. "Kerri! Good to hear from you, girl. Are you behaving for your Ma?"

_"Of course,"_ she promised _. "You've got to come and see the loft! We painted! It's spectacular!"_

"That's a fret," he had a hard time believing his girls could get all the painting done since the last time they'd talked they hadn't even picked out the colours. He found more Irish slang returning to him when he talked to his girls, probably because it was used often by Kerrianne, and occasionally by Fiona. "Ye didn't let your mother do the baseboards did you?"

_"Hey!"_ he heard Fiona's outraged voice in the background. He could still remember the baseboards in their first apartment, first of all she'd insisted they'd look fantastic in yellow (they didn't) and she couldn't paint in a straight line to save her life. Fantastic shot with a gun, shaky as a babe with a paintbrush. _"I heard that!"_

Kerrianne's laughter warmed his heart. _"Are you touched? No way! I did them,"_ Kerrianne sounded proud. _"Only got the walls in a couple spots but we got it sorted now."_

He heard a bit more rustling, a couple of words from both of his girls before an _'uh fine'_ from Kerrianne. _"Ma wants the phone back. Hurry and come home, she's all bitchy and broody when you're not around."_

_"Kerrianne Aoife Larkin-Telford!"_

_"Ma! Really? The full name?"_

Chibs couldn't help but laugh, even as their bickering made him insanely homesick. While Charming remained home, his heart remained with his girls.

Static came on the line before a long winded sigh. _"Your daughter,"_ Fiona muttered.

_"Uncalled for!"_ Kerrianne shouted. _"Bye Da!"_

_"Feck off! Go to work!"_ Fiona replied cheerily. _"Have a nice night!"_ The line remained silent for a moment. _"And she's gone… so what are you wearing?"_

Chibs laughed and shook his head. "I'm on my bike on the side of the road, this isn't the time for that game."

_"Come on, Filip,"_ Fiona's voice tempted him. The physical distance didn't lessen his reaction to her voice. _"I miss you, I wish you were here. I want to run my hands through your hair… down your chest-"_

"This is not the time, Fi," he groaned. He watched a couple of cars go by, a few joggers were sticking to the side of the road as they chatted loudly over their personal music players.

_"What a pity,"_ Fiona replied sounding wistful. He heard her sigh and then a slight hitch of breath before she moaned.

"You're a cruel woman," he commented wanting to hang up but unable to tear his ear away from the pleasured sounds she made to tease him.

_"Aye,"_ she sighed. _"But you love me."_

"I'll try and call you tonight," he said. He hated to make promises to her that he might not be able to keep.

_"I'll keep my phone with me,"_ she assured. _"I love you, Filip."_

"Love you too, Fi. Stay safe." He hung up his phone and felt he homesickness seep into his soul. If home is where the heart is, he remained painfully far away from his.

::

Toy trucks laid scattered along the living room floor leaving the place look like a tornado had gone through. Tara smiled, she wouldn't have it any other way.

She watched as Abel would point out buttons on the little fire truck and Thomas would press them and became overjoyed by the noises it made or the quick flash of lights.

"Are you boys having fun?" Tara asked coming in with the basket of laundry that needed to be folded. Usually the chore annoyed her, but now she felt immensely grateful that she could do her own laundry.

"Yeah," Abel replied. The blonde boy looked so much like his father. He pointed to another button and Thomas pushed it. The toy truck's siren played for a few seconds and Thomas clapped his hands together. "Where is Dad?"

Tara remembered Jax getting a call and leaving. Business, he'd said. She felt annoyed, even after all she'd been through the club still came first. Knowing that she would always be second to the club was a bitter pill to swallow.

"He's away," Tara skimmed over. "What do you want for lunch?"

"Milk and cookies?" Abel tried with a sweet grin.

Tara's eyes narrowed. "Now, now, just because that worked once with your dad, doesn't mean it's going to work with me. You need to eat good food so you can grow up big and strong like your dad. That's what you want, right?"

Abel nodded enthusiastically. "Milk is good."

"Yes, but cookies are not," Tara laughed as she folded up one of Abel's shirts. "What do you say about grilled cheese sandwiches?"

"Can I have cookies after?" Abel remained persistent.

Tara smiled. "Sure, after you finish your sandwich you can have a couple cookies."

"Okay," Abel replied.

Thomas turned as Tara stood up. The toddler reached. "Ma, Mama."

Tara's eyes welled up as she stared down at her son.

"Mom, mom!" Abel shouted excitedly. "Tommy spoke!"

"I know, I know," Tara's voice trembled under the weight of her joy.

"Mama, Mama," Thomas clenched and unclenched his hands over and over in a grabbing motion toward Tara.

She walked over and picked him up. He smiled widely and rested his head against her shoulder. Tara held him close. No matter what happened between her and Jax, nothing would ever again be separated her from her sons.

::

Happy tried to tell himself that he had insisted upon being on the protection detail because he had been good friends with Quinn for so long. He tried to tell himself that he was doing this because of Indiana's status as Mac's Old Lady. The more he tried to convince himself that that was the case the more he felt like a liar.

Unser had come through with the wire. Happy held the device in his hands. Nothing fancy, certainly nothing new, Charming PD didn't have much of a budget. He knocked on Indiana's office door, she'd continued working through the day while the men had worked on getting her into the charity auction. Oswald had come through with a spare ticket, although it had come at a price of an undisclosed favour. The sons would honour it, whenever Oswald called it in.

The door opened and Indiana stared up at him. She released the door and turned back around. He pushed the door open enough to get in and shut it behind himself. He watched her as she walked back to her desk and sat back down. "Are you getting anywhere?"

"Every new statement I look at, every number I enter gets me closer," Indiana spat. She sat down at the desk and looked down at the sheets of paper. "I can do my job."

He put up his hands, surprised by her sudden onslaught. "What the fuck is eating you?"

Her eyes cut to him. "Do you think I'm inept?"

"No." He thought of Indiana as many things, inept wasn't even near the list.

"Then why did you fight so hard to keep me out of it?" Her hands slammed down on the desk and she stood. "I can help her!"

He remained silent as he studied her fighting stance. Her blue eyes were like a stormy ocean, angry and turbulent. Few women's anger even touched him. Gemma Teller-Morrow could be a threat when angered. Tink had a friendly and gentle disposition but God help whoever stood in her way. Helena, one of Quinn's ex's created havoc, luckily she was now dead and buried.

Indiana's anger didn't put him on the defensive but it did move something in him. The spark of her old lively spirit just pulled him to her like she was his gravity. He walked over and put his hands on the desk mirroring her pose.

"You should be kept out of it," he replied fighting to keep his voice calm.

"Why?" She demanded leaning forward just a bit more. "I am the most logical choice to resolve this matter."

His body felt heated under her glare. The low, simmering anger in her voice did something stupid to his insides. He tried to ignore his body's response, tried to block her from his mind but couldn't quite manage. He hated her business attire. The black tailored slacks, the tucked in button-up white blouse didn't suit her. His eyes followed the line of the collar down to the first button, but since she was leaning forward he got a small peak of the swells of her breasts. He forced his eyes to meet hers.

"This isn't what you were brought here for," Happy growled.

"I was brought in to help," Indiana argued passionately.

"You were brought in to sit behind a desk-"

"I-"

"Stop try-"

"You need-"

His hand clasped over the front of her neck and pulled her closer as he leaned in. He felt her panicked breath and his hairs stood on end.

"Shut up," his voice rasped as his eyes narrowed at her.

Her wide eyes stared up at him and he noticed the distinct lack of fear.

"I don't like that you're going in there. I don't like that you're going to be in danger. I don't like that you seem to have a lack of self-preservation."

"I-"

His hand tightened. "I'm not finished," he snarled at her. Her eyes stared at him, despite everything that had transpired between them he couldn't find a hint of fear. Even with his hand tightly clenched around her throat, he could sense her absolute trust. His attraction hit him like a punch to the gut. His lust for her had been long ignored and pushed away and it came back with ferocity.

Despite every reason to push her away he found himself too caught up in the familiar scent of her perfume, the feel of her skin. The air seemed different in the room, heady with pent up desires locked up for too long.

"I'm not finished," he repeated right before his lips crashed down on hers. He dominated her, demanded from her as his hand slid from her neck to thread into fist into her hair and used the grip to pull her closer.

Her hands hit his chest and he couldn't tell if she was trying to maintain some semblance of balance or to push him away. Either way, he took what he wanted.

She bit his lip, but it wasn't hard enough to cause any harm. His hand ran up her side over the crisp fabric of her professional blouse. He wanted to ruin the image, he wanted her clothes to be rumbled and in a disarray on the floor, he wanted her hair to be dishevelled, he wanted her more than he would ever admit.

He could feel her try to pull back but his fist in her hair tightened and dragged her closer. He cursed the desk between their bodies. His hand groped her breast, she wasn't the bustiest woman he'd ever had, in fact she didn't even make up a proper handful but she still managed to get him twisted up in a way no other woman ever had. He didn't understand it, couldn't explain it if he tried.

Once again, she attempted to pull away but he held tight and pinched her nipple. She gasped and he took the opportunity to explore her mouth. Her tongue dueled against his and he fed off the desperation in her eager kisses.

He pulled on her again but heard her body hit against the desk and felt her blow out a breath in pain. His hand fell from her breast and his hand untangled from her hair. His jeans felt uncomfortably tight. He looked at her, she appeared properly tousled. Her hair twisted and knotted in places where his hand had been. Her shirt looked a little wrinkled and she hurried to set herself to rights.

He saw her hands tremble as she brushed a hand over her shirt and then threaded her fingers through her hair trying to brush it back to straight. Her face had a pink tinge to it, and her eyes looked close to tears. "What was that?" she shook her head and her hands fisted in her own hair giving a slight pull. "What was that?"

He ran his hand over his face as the shame and guilt hit him just as it had when he'd stripped her down and had his way with her years previous. He couldn't understand the attraction that overruled his common sense. Sure, she was beautiful, smart, and funny but only the good looking part had ever really been something he considered when he wanted to get in bed with a woman. No other woman ever made him lose his common sense just by being. Sure, he wanted to fuck her senseless but he should have the brains not to do it. He ran his hands over his head and fought to get his body under control.

"I'm with Mac." Her words were full of desperation, of shame and guilt. "Fuck," she whispered as she collapsed into the chair.

He turned to her, watched her look to the ceiling and in the light he could see how watery her eyes looked. Her unshed tears at least cooled him off enough to feel comfortable in his jeans again. The pain on her face drudged up his instinct to protect her. The problem remained that the person he currently needed to protect her from was himself.

"The wire," she said, refusing to meet his gaze. "Do you have it?"

"Yes."

"Send in Lyla," her voice even and neutral. "She can help me get it on."

"I ca-"

"No," she cut him off sharply. Her temper flared once again, her eyes cold and angry when she looked at him. "I think you've done more than enough. Send in Lyla."

The room felt claustrophobic and he was grateful to escape it. He shut the door behind himself and leaned against it for a second. "Jesus fucking Christ," he muttered running his hands over his face. He needed to get himself sorted. His reaction to her was unnatural. He shook his head. He could deal with it after they got Irina back- if they got Irina back. Happy didn't have much faith in the plan.

He found Lyla at the front desk. She'd stuck around to help, the kids were with Gemma. Gemma happened to be one of the few people rebellious Ellie listened to. He put the wire on her desk. "Go help Indiana with this."

Lyla nodded and picked up the wire. She waved over a busty dark skinned woman, Happy couldn't recall her name but he recognized the wicked curves of her gorgeous full figure. She smiled at Happy as she always did. "You on shift tonight?" she asked as she took Lyla's seat.

"I'm working elsewhere," he told her. He took her as a distraction, a much needed one.

"Till when?" she asked.

"Don't know."

"Hmm," she replied before grabbing a sticky note and scribbling on it. She took it off and held out the paper for Happy. Her number and name was printed neatly. Desiree. "I'm a night owl," she said. "You should call me when you're done… working elsewhere." She winked at him as Lyla returned with Indiana.

His mouth went dry as he caught sight of Indiana's athletic figure in a fire engine red dress that clung to her like a second skin. The straps were two fingers wide, the hem length ended a bit before Indiana's fingers and she already started trying to pull it lower.

"She's wired and ready to go," Lyla informed Happy, her eyes skipping over to Primo. "Be safe."

Nero met the group just outside of the door along with three of the Byz-Lats that he trusted most. He looked to Indiana. "Thank you for doing this."

Indiana nodded in response.

"Let's go," Primo said. "You're already going to be fashionably late."

Happy saw through her façade of courage and could see her nerves. "You'll be safe," he whispered as they wall walked toward the parking lot.

"I know," she replied softly.

He faltered in step. He expected her ire, he expected what happened in the office to have shaken her trust in him. He stared at her back, watched the sensual sway of her hips as she walked. "I'm going to Hell," he muttered to himself before catching up in three easy strides.


	17. Abhorence

Indiana felt exposed in the dress. She tried to ignore the hemline and focus on the task at hand. It didn't help that people stared openly at her. She heard whispers as she moved through the swarms of people. _Hussy. Tart. Tramp._ Being the daughter of a biker, she'd heard worse, been called worse. She'd sorted it with her fists most of the time, demanded respect of Croweaters and Old Ladies, but this was a different world and she wasn't sure how to navigate it. She knew for certain she couldn't just knock the rich woman who pursed her lips and shook her head as she looked Indiana over.

She closed her eyes for a second and re-focussed on her goal. Taking a steadying breath she looked around seeking out the man from the picture Primo had shown her. She pictured Joshua Manning in her mind. Sharp angular face, dark brown eyes, chestnut coloured hair cut close and styled, slender nose, sensually shaped mouth. Remarkably handsome, she couldn't help but admit. Not her type, but handsome.

People were walking around looking at the items to bid on. The silent auction had beautiful jewellery, extravagant home furnishings and gorgeous paintings. Indiana found the painting Oswald wanted and checked to see if the last bid was under his final line. She quickly bid for him and then continued on her way.

A waiter offered her champagne and she took a glass with a thankful smile. She didn't intend on drinking it. She had a low alcohol tolerance. She had a horrible habit of spilling secrets when she got drinking. Still, she carried the flute of champagne around with her as a prop, sometimes she pretended to take a sip but she never let the drink past her lips.

Nearly everyone else wore elegant clothing, muted colours. Most of the women wore their hair up in intricate up-dos. She stood out in the bold red dress that showed off her toned and tan legs. Her small black purse hung on a silver chain. The weight of it indicated more than just a wallet and lipstick. Her long hair cascaded down her back and she felt a tug on it.

"My apologies, Miss," she turned and found herself face to face with Joshua Manning. "You have beautiful hair."

She pushed her long blonde hair back and gave him a smile. "Thank you," she replied demurely.

"I haven't seen you here before," he said adjusting the jacket of his wonderfully tailored gray suit. "I would definitely remember someone of such beauty." He flirted shamelessly, his kind words made her hand tremble. She held the champagne flute in both hands in hopes to appear steady. "What is your name?"

"Indiana, I'm here on behalf of my boss, he regretfully couldn't be here," she replied as vaguely as possible. "You're wearing such a handsome suit… oh, sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"How rude of me to not have introduced myself, Joshua Manning," he extended his hand to her and she allowed him to take her hand and instead of shaking it as she'd expected it he brought her knuckles to his lips. "My family runs this auction." He still held her hand and she took refuge in the crowd around them. "All proceeds go to local charities."

She flashed him what she hoped looked like a flirty smile and not a grimace. "Here I was thinking we were getting to be friends, not just a mark for some money."

He grinned and she couldn't help but wonder how such a nice looking man could be such a monster. Then again, she knew some scary looking men who she absolutely adored, although they remained dangerous, they represented safety to her.

"Sorry," he said as he ran his thumb over her knuckles. "I'm afraid the business line has been drilled into me."

"I understand," she replied turning away and walking a few steps thankful that his hand released her. She felt his presence directly behind her, the heat of him left her feeling cold.

"Do you like this necklace? Its late eighteenth century," he informed her, his hand burning against her lower back. She figured that he must have grown in confidence after taking Irina, to flirt so shamelessly, to lay his hands on her so quickly, or perhaps he was just so full of his own importance that he thought himself invincible. "Truly one of a kind."

"It is beautiful," she whispered and her soft voice drew him closer. She hoped that he didn't try to get a look down her dress. It had a modest neckline but between her breasts was the only place Lyla could see fit to put the transmitter, the bulkiest piece of the wire she wore, the tight dress didn't leave any other option.

"If you think this is beautiful, you should see the gardens here," he enticed with a small smile. "Come with me, Indiana, I am sure you'll find them positively breathtaking."

"Oh, I don't know," she played nervous. "My boss wanted me to do some bidding."

"You'll have plenty of time," he insisted. "Besides, you want to come in last minute for the things you really want."

She forced a smile as she fell into step with him. "Well, it couldn't hurt." Her heart thumped so hard she could feel it, she worried that the guys could hear it over the wire. She tried to concentrate on the fact that the guys were listening. That Happy and Nero and Primo and the other Byz-Lats were out in a van listening in. Nothing would happen. They knew everything.

She left her flute of champagne on a table before walking out the door he held open for her. The gentle breeze was warm but she shivered anyway. A moment later, Joshua's coat hung over her shoulders.

"That should keep you warm," he said softly as he put his arm over her shoulders. With most men, the gesture was uncomfortable due to her height this was no exception. Joshua stood a few inches over her and the arm felt possessive.

"Thank you," she whispered trying to keep the fear at bay as the door finally shut with a click and the noise of the auction died. The silence in the gardens disturbed her. She looked around, pretending to be staring at the shrubs and flowers, but instead she looked for someone, anyone. Another person would surely deter him from trying too hard with her. She couldn't find a single person.

"The gardens are off limits," he said as if reading his mind. "Obviously not to me or my family." His thumb rubbed little circles on her shoulder.

She took quick purposeful strides away from him and out from under his arm. She felt like she could finally breathe again as she approached a beautiful flower in full bloom. "You weren't exaggerating, these gardens are exceptional."

"I'm glad you enjoy it."

Her hand slid down the chain of her purse, her fingers curled around it and lifted just slightly. The weight of it comforted her.

"Are you new in these parts? I usually know everyone and their assistants," Joshua commented and she could feel his eyes on her.

"Yes," she replied. Self-preservation warred with her words. She wanted to throw in her last name, hide behind the protection it came with. She knew she needed to seem vulnerable, alone. It terrified her. "I'm not close with my family. I used to work in New York and when I was ready to move on my old boss gave me a few contacts to look in when I got to California." The lies made her stomach churn. She felt more vulnerable with every word that left her mouth.

"Surely you've made plenty of friends since your arrival."

She smiled a little shyly and shook her head. "No. I'm still unpacking boxes and I work so much I hardly have time to even go out for groceries." She didn't care for lying. Mostly, she'd learnt over the years to avoid answering questions she didn't want to answer. She had a family of outlaws, she could do stone cold silence for days if need be. Lying required finesse so it wouldn't blow back. She tried to put in enough details that it would be believable but not so many that she'd get trapped by it.

"Too bad," he said plucking a large red flower from the shrub and tucking it behind her ear. "Your boss must be looking forward to your return."

She realized with a surge of panic that he was fishing. What ties did she have? Would anyone care if she went missing? Her stomach tightened into knots and she felt sick.

His hand curved from the flower, under her jaw line, his fingertips trailing over her throat. His hand where Happy's had been hours ago made her heart speed up. The thought of Happy's hands on her and the way they wound into her hair, his lips dominating her, the way he possessed her completely had her struggling to keep her head clear and focused.

Her tongue peeked out to wet her suddenly dry lips. "Oh, he's away," she said distantly as her hand came up to touch the soft petals of the flower in her hair. She did her best to stay in the 'now' instead of having her mind skid back to the office with Happy. "He has some business in Europe."

Joshua looked pleased and she swallowed hard at the shark like grin upon his face. "He left you all on your own?"

"Oh no," she shook her head. "I couldn't possibly do all the work on my own. There are gardeners and cleaners and accountants. I just man the phone and make appointments for when he's back, or forward important calls. Simple really, unimportant." She put a finger to her lips. "But don't tell him that, I'll be out of a job."

She almost wished she'd drank that entire glass of champagne. Her nerves were fried. Lies were coming out of her mouth half thought through and half made up on the spot. She hoped the wire worked. Even with it on, she felt remarkably alone. She had ever confidence that Happy wouldn't let anything happen to her. Regardless of how messed up their relationship had been over the years, the fact that he above all saw her as Rane Quinn's daughter would ensure her protection.

Joshua's eyes drank her in and her hand clenched around the chain on her purse. "I'm sure your boss understands your worth." The way his eyes honed in on her body had her hands shaking. She understood just how he measured worth.

She knew he had grown up rich, lived a lavish lifestyle and believed himself to be above everyone else. He believed he could have whatever he wanted. She wasn't stupid, by the look on his face, she knew that she was currently his want. Subtly she lifted the chain to her purse just to feel the reassuring weight once again.

Desperate to have the attention off of herself for a moment she turned away. "These lilies are beautiful."

His hand ran through her hair and it shot a chill down her spine. "They pale in comparison to you."

A nervous laugh burst from her lips.

"What is so funny?" he appeared amused.

She shrugged. "I've only heard lines like that in movies."

"I don't believe you," he whispered as his hands skimmed along her hips and pulled her a little closer. The jacket slipped off and his eyes predatory as he stared down at her. He didn't have too much extra height on her, but he still managed to make her feel small. "Surely a woman like you is used to being paid such compliments."

She could honestly say she wasn't. Sure, Mac paid her compliments with pretty words. Her mother did on occasion. Most terms of endearment came out a little different from bikers. Her father used to call her his 'little anarchist.' Cricket would fondly call her a 'shit disturber.' Her godfather Harry occasionally called her 'girl,' which was as affectionate as Harry got. To everyone else she was just 'Indie' or 'Quinn's kid.' She didn't get paid compliments, or have people fawn over her.

She couldn't find words, her throat felt thick and her nerves made her mouth dry. She managed to shake her head, and stared up at him. One thing she did know how to play was how innocent her eyes made her look.

"Such a pity," he whispered. "One such as you should be adored. Lavished with words, flowers, pretty sparkly things that women love so much."

The way his hands shifted and smoothed over the curve of her hip. The sweetness surprised her. He had kidnapped an escort. She'd expected a strong hand, a vile temper. She felt her breath felt choked and she gasped in a breath and held it trying not to give her panic away.

She blinked quickly and tried to put a smile upon her face. "That's very sweet of you to say," she just barely managed to get the words out but they fluctuated in strength.

"Let me get my assistant to put in those bids for you," Joshua insisted as one hand came up to caress her face, his thumb running along her cheekbone. "Let me show you my personal gardens. They aren't quite to the scale of these, but they are quite exquisite."

Her heart threatened to burst from her chest and every warning bell went off. She ignored her body's instinct to flee. "That sounds wonderful."

::

Happy radiated with rage but he kept a lid on it. Every word from Joshua Manning's mouth put his teeth on edge. The thought of Indiana being so close to that man made his hand itch for his gun.

 _"I could follow in my car,"_ Indiana's voice came through the speakers.

 _"Nonsense, no point in taking two vehicles,"_ Joshua's voice came in clear which indicated he remained very close to Indiana. _"Besides, your keys are with the valet."_

Her sharp intake of breath had Happy leaning forward in his seat wondering what happened that he couldn't see.

 _"So what do you drive?"_ Indiana asked, her voice quick. Happy knew she was trying to get the attention shifted.

 _"That's my car there,"_ Joshua's voice filled the back of the van.

Indiana's whistle got distorted in the speakers. _"Maserati."_ Happy found himself oddly proud that she knew her car symbols. _"And in red, my favourite."_

"Good girl," Nero whispered not wanting to interrupt further information.

"Shouldn't be hard to follow a red Maserati," Primo nodded.

 _"You know your cars!"_ Joshua sounded surprised.

 _"I know_ nice _cars,"_ Indiana's voice teased.

 _"I can show you all kinds of_ nice things _."_

The way the man spoke left Happy on edge. He still couldn't figure out how he had allowed her to get into such a situation. Naturally, Indiana's independent streak would have insisted she do whatever she damn well pleased but he didn't like it. It didn't matter that they could hear her, she remained with that man and it left him on the edge of the knife.

"We need to get ready to move," Nero said. He turned to Happy. "You staying in the van, or are you following?"

"Following," Happy's voice seemed even raspier than usual. He needed out of the claustrophobic van.

 _"So just where do you live?"_ Indiana's voice followed him as he opened the doors to the back of the van.

Happy paused. Leaving where he could hear her voice almost seemed like abandonment.

"She's got him alone," Primo said looking directly at Happy. The man seemed to see right through bullshit and get right into the heart of things. "He's not going to do anything to her while they're in the car. Too dangerous. He's used to control and he sees himself in the power position with her."

Happy gave a sharp nod and knew that Nero's first in command was right. He quickly shut the door before he lost the nerve.

::

What kind of range did the wire have? Indiana didn't know. She continued to check the rear view mirror but she never spotted another set of headlights. What if the thing hadn't even been turned on right? _Nonsense!_ Her mind scolded. Nero had insisted upon three checks in the back of the van before letting her go in.

She took in a deep breath, the scent of the leather interior and Joshua's sharp and spicy cologne greeted her. She knew she needed to keep making contents about their location, this way the van could keep following at a safe distance.

"Wellstead Heights," she said as they drove past a large stone display carved with the name. She knew the neighbourhood was exclusive and expensive. She'd read about it once, but never saw it with her own eyes and had never expected to. She could live to be a hundred and never make the kind of money it would take to own a home there. She stared out at the iron gates, glamorous fountains, immaculate gardens and enormous mansions. She let out a breath. "These homes are stunning," she whispered.

"I'm glad that you approve, Indiana," Joshua replied. He flicked on the blinker and as they turned. He reached up and scowled. "I haven't gotten around to getting a gate opener for this car. It's new," he explained as he pressed the button for the window and it glided down. He reached out and Indiana leaned forward slightly and watched him use the keypad.

 _1834._ She held onto the number, repeated it over in her mind. She needed to find a way to say it so the guys would know.

She looked forward and her mouth dropped open. The driveway went straight in and then became circular. In the centre a stone fountain consisted of three gorgeous women who stood back to back with water jugs on their shoulders that continuously poured into the basin. She knew she'd get lost if left to her own devices in the mansion. You could scream on one side and not be heard on the other. The thought put ice in her veins and sent a chill down her spine.

Joshua parked the car and got out. Indiana grabbed her bag and he opened the door for her. His hand extended and she forced herself to take it. She shot him a weak smile and thanked him softly.

She stood beside him and stared at the fountain. One hand slipped behind her back and her forefinger and middle finger crossed, she shot a brief prayer up to whoever might be listening that the men in the van would understand. "That fountain must have taken like _eighteen_ years to construct!" She marvelled, she couldn't deny the beauty in their stone faces. They stared blankly, each subtly different. She walked a bit closer studying the details of the tall, rail thin nude woman with long hair. The second one had a more womanly figure with generous curves. The third stood shorter than the others with wild and curly hair. " _Three_ very beautiful ladies." Her hands ran over the details of the basin as she walked along. "These detailed etchings must have taken _four_ years alone."

Joshua smiled widely and she felt like prey. Her body hummed with the need to run but she forced her feet to plant and stay still.

His hand gripped around the back of her neck, over her hair. "You seem enamoured with them."

"Who doesn't enjoy the female figure?" Indiana shot him a coy smile and turned slightly out of his grasp. She returned to stand before the one that she thought resembled Irina's body shape and reached out, her fingertips grazing the cool stone of the woman's knee. "Something so beautiful deserves the attention, you must agree otherwise it wouldn't be out here where you get to see it so often."

His smile showed rows of bleached white and perfectly straight teeth. "Sounds to me like you can appreciate a woman, but you wouldn't be here if you couldn't appreciate a man as well," he said grabbing her by the hips and pulling her flush against his muscular body. "I like the way you talk, the words you chose, your voice. It's alluring, much like your scent," his face buried in her hair, nuzzling against her neck. Her body tightened, her hand gripped tightly to the chain of her purse. Her heart sped up till she felt sure that the microphone would pick up the sound. He drew back and looked down upon her. "You're such a pretty little thing." His hands ran up her sides and she bit down on her tongue hoping the pain would help her think clearly. "You deserve to be worshipped."

"I thought you wanted to show me the gardens," her voice sounded husky even to her own ears. She tried to control her breathing but knew her breaths were shortened and edging on panic.

"How about we go inside first," he grabbed her hand and started to lead her. "Get ourselves a drink first."

She knew she didn't have much of a say. He had all the power. She looked back over her shoulder at the closed gate and felt incredibly alone.

::

"No," Primo insisted as he grabbed Happy's arm. Happy's hand balled into a fist as he whirled on the man. Primo glared and pointed. "Sensors. You jump the wall and he will know."

"He has Indiana in there. Perhaps even Irina," Nero said, the Byz-Lats standing behind him waiting for orders. "We need to do this smart."

"There is a key pad," one of Nero's men mentioned. "Anyone know how to bypass it?" He looked around but no one spoke up.

"She had to have said something," Happy insisted his mind remaining clear despite his ire. "She's too smart to let herself get trapped."

"I saw Manning reach out and hit the numbers," their driver said.

"Indiana would have looked," Happy insisted, one hand brushing over his head in a rare display of his agitation. "We have the code."

"Numbers," Primo muttered to himself before jumping back into the back of the van. Happy walked over to the open doors and stared at Primo who started to work the recording software to go back. "She sounded different in one section," he told Happy. "Saying stuff that didn't really fit into the flow of their conversation. She was forcing it. There were numbers."

 _"That fountain must have taken like eighteen years to construct!"_ A pause had a little bit of static. _"Three very beautiful ladies. These detailed etchings must have taken four years alone."_

Happy let out a breath. "Smart girl," he whispered under his breath. He and Primo returned to the rest of them. "One eight three four is the passcode," Happy said. He looked to Primo and gave him a nod. Primo nodded in return.

"Stealth," Nero said to his men with a warning look. "We go in quiet."

Happy felt the adrenaline coursing through his system as the men started to move through the cover of night.

::

Joshua passed Indiana a glass of champagne. She gave a smile and raised the glass in a salute. She took the smallest of sips and forced herself not to cringe. When she did drink, she went straight for the hard liquor. She couldn't find dignity in fruity girly drinks. Classy options like wine and champagne never even occurred to her as a thought.

"How is it?" he asked her.

"Great," she lied with a smile. "This is a beautiful home you have. I half expected a butler to pop out and hand us champagne." Instead, they stood alone in the kitchen in the eerie silence.

"I have a few cleaners who come in, chefs for special occasions," Joshua informed her. "I am a private person though, I prefer having my home empty." He took a sip of the champagne and took her by the elbow, leading her into a back sitting room. The far wall consisted of floor to ceiling glass and they had a perfect view of the gorgeous garden. "Figured we'd stay in since it's getting a bit chilly out. Wouldn't want you to catch a cold." He flicked a switch and the fireplace lit up casting a warming glow on the room.

"How thoughtful," Indiana replied through clenched teeth. Outside, she felt some semblance of safety. She'd always been a runner, the outdoors gave her a sense of freedom she didn't have in the room.

"Here," he said, taking her elbow once again he guided her to a two person seat, it had a great view of the garden and got the warmth off the fireplace. "Take a seat."

She sat down and listened. No sound but the occasional crackle of the fireplace and the movement of Joshua as he settled down beside her. What if the Byz-Lats hadn't understood the numbers she said? What if they'd lost the signal, or lost the car on the way? She tried to convince herself that she just needed to stall, they were there and they were coming. _Happy is here, Happy is coming,_ her mind held tightly to the thought.

"It was so nice of you to invite me here," Indiana said smiling at the gardens, finding a small amount of peace in their beauty. "Did I thank you?"

His hand caressed her face, sweeping her long blonde hair over the gentle curve of her shoulder. She stiffened under his touch. "I don't think you did," his voice held a playful edge but his eyes had a darkness that shook her to her core. He liked the power, she sensed that much. She wondered what kind of things he'd gotten away with because of his position. He turned slightly in the seat to face her, one hand remained on her shoulder, and the other reached across her body to settle lightly on her hip. He didn't hold her tightly, but she felt trapped.

Dread slammed into her heart. His eyes raked over her body, mentally undressing her. She couldn't help the tremor of fright that ran through her body. A small smirk curved his lips. "It's rude of you not to thank me properly, but you've been such a sweet girl that I'll let you make it up to me."

She froze, her wide eyes staring at him as her mind drifted around unable to remain focused. She could feel the impending panic attack. Her throat started to feel tight. Her temples throbbed. Her stomach churned. Her heart gave a near painful squeeze.

"I d-don't know wh-what you mean." She bit down hard on her tongue. When had she last stuttered? She knew when and shot down the memory before it could get a hold on her.

His hand threaded gently, so gently through her hair. "Yes you do," he replied, his hand grazing up from her hip and her hand quickly closed over his stopping his progress up. He started to go back down and she let go not wanting skin to skin contact with him. His head tilted slightly as he studied her face. "You are so beautiful," he said, and she thought it to be more to himself than to her. His hand ran over the red dress down her thigh until he found skin. Her hand reached out once more to lay over his. "You want this."

"I think I should go," Indiana said sternly. Enough was enough. The guys should be around, and if not, she saw no point in Joshua Manning having a second pawn to play with. "I want to return to the auction now."

"No." One word, complete refusal. She realized then that there had been a part of her that didn't really believe that a man would hold a woman against her will. There was a part of her that hadn't believed that he'd been obsessed with Irina or that he'd taken her. She didn't really believe that a man with his looks, wealth and power would need to kidnap a woman to have.

The truth slammed home. He had Irina and now he had her too.

She had a good sense of fight or flight. Croweaters she fought as a matter of respect, it had always been expected of her. This time her instinct went toward flight, she needed to get as far away from Joshua Manning as she could, as fast as she could. She'd felt his muscles while pressed up against her, she could throw a punch, her dad had taught her that much, but in a down and dirty fight with a man she didn't have confidence in her ability to win.

His hands still remained light on her, as if his refusal to take her anywhere would be enough to keep her with him. Maybe he could boss other women around, but not her.

Her hand rested lightly on the arm of the small loveseat and she tightened her hold. She took a deep breath and then jumped from the seat using her hand on the arm to give her an extra push that got her out of Joshua's hands when they tightened. She got only three steps before she got jerked back by her hair and her feet slid out from under her. She landed on her bottom and her hands went instinctively to her head trying to hold her hair as he gave it a yank and dragged her across the floor by it. The scream ripped from her throat and tears burned in her eyes, white stars momentarily blotched her vision.

The dragging stopped, but one hand remained in her hair. It took a second to realize he'd crouched down behind her, his chest against her back. His hand wrapped around her, just under her breasts. "Now, now," Joshua's voice remained light, almost playful and her stomach lurched. "Be a good girl, Indiana. You're my guest. You will respect me in my own home."

She felt a tear slide down her face. His hand remained tight in her hair but it didn't hurt. His thumb grazed the underside of her breast and her breath hitched as she tried not to cry.

"You're enjoying this," Joshua growled in her ear. "You want me."

Her breath became laboured as her throat felt like it was closing in. She thought of Irina, that inadvertently, she had put the woman into this situation. The self-blame tore her up inside.

 _They aren't coming! They'd be here if they were coming! They weren't able to follow the car! They weren't able to figure out the passcode!_ She gritted her teeth at the onslaught of thoughts. They weren't going to help her. If she wouldn't get help from the cavalry, she'd get out of the situation herself.

She forced herself to relax in his arms with the hope that he would loosen his hold enough for her to make another break for it. She sucked a breath into her lungs that burned and held it for a second before she slowly let it out.

"That's a good girl," Joshua's words came with warm breath against the shell of her ear. "You're such a good girl."

Her lungs burned. Throat closed. Temples throbbed. Memories bombarded.

_Good girl, such a good sweet girl._

His hand slid over the slight swell of her breast and his thumb smoothed over the material of the dress. A pitiful sob escaped her lips. The air evacuated her lungs didn't return, she kept trying to inhale but never seemed able to take in enough air.

Joshua's hands weren't alone. Ghosts reached out, soft caresses from the past mingled with that of the present. Joshua growled and her mind refocused when he pulled her dress away from her skin and stared over her shoulder down her top.

"You fucking bitch!" He grabbed her by the throat, moving swiftly out of the way as he slammed her head down on the marble floor. "You fucking little bitch!"

Her nails clawed at his arm in desperation to get breath. She pried enough space to get a hold of a pressure point and twisted just like her father taught her. It bought her a brief respite and she gasped air into her burning lungs.

She could deal with anger. She kicked out and hit him in the side. She scrambled for her bag and opened the magnetic clasp. He grabbed her by the ankle and she flipped onto her back and kicked with her other foot nailing him in the face. Blood spurted from his nose and dripped on the floor as he howled. She rolled onto her hands and knees, she crawled desperately to her bag.

Happy had put the device in her bag with a stern glare that told her she best not argue. Her hand grabbed a hold and she felt safe, like a part of him was there with her.

She heard Joshua's stomping footsteps and she whirled around blindly while holding the trigger on the stun gun. It caught Joshua in the upper thigh. The man stopped mid-step, jerked a bit, a mangled sound escaped his lips before he fell to the ground.

With the device still in hand, she scrambled backwards with the need to have space between them. Her back hit the wall and she gasped in breaths staring at the body for any signs that he might get up.

Unrelenting panic stabbed through her. Her lungs felt raw as she hyperventilated. Her vision tunneled to Joshua Manning on the floor.

::

He heard her breaths first. It sounded like she breathed through a straw. He thought he'd find her hurt, that there would be blood. His mind conjured horrific images of the beautiful woman sprawled out beaten and broken. He rushed into the room ahead of the others and followed the sound of her breath.

He watched her chest heave. In her hand, the stun gun he had provided. He took another step closer and followed her intense gaze to Joshua Manning. He got a sick pleasure seeing him bleeding and drooling on the floor.

"You hurt?" he asked Indiana as he went to her and crouched down to her left.

She didn't respond. Her eyes didn't even turn toward him. Happy looked her over, no blood, except for on her one shoe, no bruises or cuts. Her neck looked a little red and anger surged through him.

"Indiana," he snapped at her, his voice loud and rough.

She still didn't acknowledge his presence. He turned over to where Nero and Primo were tying up Joshua Manning before he regained consciousness.

The sound of her strangled breath brought his attention back to her. "Indiana," he snapped and when she still didn't turn he grabbed her by the chin and forcefully made her look at him.

Her big blue eyes were wide. Terrified. Her body trembled and her chest still heaved with every quick, short breath she took. He hated the man who had put that look on her face. Wanted to cut him to ribbons, and keep him alive the entire time he flayed the skin off.

"Stop it," Happy demanded. "You're fine."

Tears welled in her eyes but the breaths didn't slow down. He figured if she kept it up, she'd pass right out. "Stop it right fucking now," he growled at her, his hands on her shoulders and his fingers bit into her skin. "You. Are. Fine."

A sob escaped her lips and she took three quick inhales but couldn't get enough breath into her lungs.

He did the only thing he could think of. He slapped her across the face. Not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough to leave the print of his hand behind. The room froze for a moment and he could feel the eyes of the Byz-Lats on him.

She stopped breathing entirely. Her head had jerked to the side upon being slapped and now slowly turned back. Her eyes held confusion as she stared at him. She took in a breath, deep and normal, she let it out and breathed in again. "What the fuck?" Her voice hoarse and had the bite of anger.

He had the overwhelming urge to run his hands through her hair, pull her to him, kiss those sternly pressed lips. He shoved the desire down and locked it up. "You're welcome," he snapped back at her. He shook his head. "You hurt?"

Her head throbbed, her hand went to the back of her head where it had been slammed against the floor. No blood but a bump already stood out. She shook her head. "I'm alright."

Happy had noticed her inspection. He grabbed her upper arm and forced her forward enough that he could run his hand over her head, and he felt the large bump. He let her go and stood. He turned toward Joshua, his hands in fists. "Motherfucker."

"Don't Hap," Nero stepped between Happy and Joshua. "We need to question this guy."

Happy wanted to be there. He wanted to question. He turned back to Indiana, sitting on the floor in that blood red dress, a large bump on her head, a vulnerability in her eyes as she caught his gaze and held it. "Indie got knocked in the head," Happy said turning to face Nero. "I want her at the clubhouse."

"The agreemen-"

"Fuck the agreement," Happy raged. "She's an asset to the Sons. If someone is watching Diosa, and they've followed us this far then they already know she got dragged into this little game. It would be logical to keep her safe at the clubhouse after everything that's gone on. We won't want to take her to the hospital anyway, Tara needs to see if she has a concussion."

Nero turned to Primo who shrugged and then nodded. Nero nodded back and turned back to Happy. "She's all yours."


	18. Divided

“Thank you for looking after the kids, Gemma,” Lyla said as she started to fix them both some tea in her small kitchen. “Work had some,” she paused and touched a finger to her chin, “After hour’s business.”

 

Gemma gave a small, humourless grin. “I know what that’s all about, baby.”

 

“I’m so grateful you were able to pick the kids up, bringing them home. You even got them to bed,” Lyla sighed and leaned against the counter as she waited for the kettle to come to a boil. “I know what a hassle it can all be.”

 

“Family,” Gemma said shaking her head. “Family is never a hassle.” Lyla had ties to Opie, short lived ties but it still brought her into the SAMCRO family, especially since she had taken on the burden of raising Opie and Donna’s two orphaned children. If nothing else, Gemma respected Lyla for stepping up with the kids, for putting family first.

 

A faint smile came upon Lyla’s face. Her eyes looked out the window, one of Nero’s men stood outside, illuminated only by the burning end of his cigarette. She let out a small sigh, Primo had called, told her she’d be heading home with protection from another one of the Byz-Lats. She’d felt unexpectedly disappointed.

 

The kettle started to whistle and Lyla quickly removed it from the burner. “You know, you really need to tell me how you manage to handle Ellie,” Lyla said as she poured the boiling hot liquid into a teapot. “I try with her,” she turned, almost a desperate plea for Gemma to understand. “She hates me.”

 

“She’s not too fond of me right now, not after the tongue lashing I gave her,” Gemma replied shooting a bitter look down the hall. “If she were any older, I’d knock her head into a wall.” Gemma saw the frantic look on Lyla’s face and scoffed. “I said if she were older. I didn’t lay a hand on her. You’re too soft, Lyla.”

 

“She’s in a rough spot,” Lyla replied softly while she brought the teapot over to the table and set it down. “I try not to be hard on her but,” Lyla paused and ran her hand through her long wavy hair. “She really tries my patience, you know?”

 

“Oh, I know,” Gemma agreed.

 

Lyla walked back to the cupboards, opened one and pulled out two mugs. She returned to the table and poured them each a mug full before she sat down. Lyla had never been inner circle at SAMCRO but through first Luanne Delaney and then Opie, she fell under their wings of protection. She certainly didn’t have much of a relationship with Gemma, and a touch and go one with Tara. She felt odd asking the older woman for advice, but if Gemma could help it would be worth it.

 

“She’s lost her both of her parents,” Lyla’s voice came out no more than a whisper. Her heart ached for Opie and she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. “Those kids lost their parents _bloody_. They need stability, compassion, comfort and I really do try to give them that.”

 

“Of course you do,” Gemma said sharply. She shook her head at the desperate tone in Lyla’s voice. “Everyone knows that. Do you think I don’t see it?”

 

Big eyes blinked a few times in shock. Lyla ducked her head, her shoulders shrugging slightly. “I don’t think anyone sees me.” She poured them each a mug and took her seat. “I’m Opie’s widow. I’m the caregiver for Kenny and Ellie.” She added a bit of milk and sugar to her tea. “That is what people see.”

 

Gemma put a bit of milk into her tea before she took a sip. The young woman had a point. Since Opie’s funeral, Lyla had fallen back from SAMCRO. Gemma rarely saw the woman at all, and never at club functions.

 

“You’re still apart of this family, baby,” Gemma insisted as her instinct to nurture kicked in. Lyla didn’t have the kind of emotional strength, like Tara, that Gemma had to even begrudgingly respect. Instead, Lyla had that ‘kicked puppy’ look that stirred Gemma’s need to protect. Lyla wasn’t a threat, Gemma knew she had the power. “If you need help, you know where to find it.”

 

Lyla stirred her tea and stared into it pensively. “I feel like I’ve failed them by even asking.”

 

“Them?”

  
“The kids,” Lyla responded softly. “Opie too. Even Donna.” She took a deep breath and released it. “I just keep thinking that I should know what to do, that Opie and Donna would know what to do. I’m so lost when it comes to Ellie.”

 

“Stay on her,” Gemma advised. “She needs a stern guiding hand.”

 

“I don’t want to push her,” Lyla bit on her lower lip.

 

“She needs it. If she gets too out of hand, call me or call Jax. She’s always liked Jax, maybe because he was always around Opie, but I think that she would listen to him. Has my boy been come around?”

 

“Not lately.”

 

“He should.”

 

Lyla shrugged not wanting to answer one way or another. Gemma could dig her heels into things and Lyla didn’t want Jax’s mother to hound him about the situation.

 

For a few minutes, they silently drank their teas.  Gemma took the time to study Lyla, really look at her. Beautiful, innocent looking, her eyes had dark circles under them where makeup had worn away making her look absolutely exhausted. “You should get some rest, honey.”

 

“Oh I’ll just-“

 

“Go to bed,” Gemma said, her head tipping forward, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I’ll clean up and lock up when I go.”

 

“You don’t have-“

 

Gemma merely raised her hand to cut the other woman off. “Did it sound like a suggestion?”

 

Lyla smiled and shook her head. “No, I guess not.”

 

“Go.”

 

The young woman got up and walked as far as the threshold to the kitchen before she turned back. “Gemma?” The dark haired woman turned and looked at her. “Thank you.”

 

Gemma nodded and Lyla retreated down the hall.

 

::

 

Happy walked out of the clubhouse and lit up the cigarette that dangled between his lips. The night held a bitter chill, and he enjoyed it. He inhaled deeply and held the smoke for a few seconds before letting it out.

 

Tara, bless her, had come to the clubhouse in the late hours of the night to check on Indiana. He noticed a bit of a change in the doctor, she’d eyed everyone with a wariness she didn’t have before she went into the prison. He couldn’t blame her, time on the inside could haunt the worst of them. She assured them both that Indiana did not have a concussion and that the bump on the back of her head would go away in about a week or so.

 

He had been expecting Mac to be around but Bobby had explained to them that a man from Tacoma had called to request his assistance. Both Happy and Indiana were sure it had been Dax who had called. Dax had sponsored Mac and over the years had become close brothers, in times of need they called on each other.

 

Happy had figured that Mac would keep a close watch on Indiana, that he would take care of her. He’d hoped for it because then he’d have a constant reminder that she belonged to someone else, a patched brother. He knew all too well that she sat inside with that fire engine red dress clinging to her modest curves, her mile long legs bare and tempting. In the fight, her hair had gotten a bit tousled and looked sexy as hell. Her big blue eyes would search for something familiar, they would look for him.

 

Taking a deep drag off the cigarette he tried to ignore the ache he had for her. He tried to put her from his mind, but couldn’t quite manage. Her big blue eyes, the scent of her perfume, the feel of her tongue running against his own. His jeans became uncomfortable and he tossed down the cigarette in self-loathing. He crushed the stick under his boot and ground it into the dirt. ‘Depravity craves innocence,’ he heard that before and it never felt more fitting.

 

He needed to stay the hell away from Indiana Quinn. She was an infection, a disease that crippled his thoughts and altered his behaviours. He needed to keep his distance and needed her to do the same. The physical ache of lust shouldn’t be so hard to be rid of, he figured. He needed to clear his mind, distract himself away from her. He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, a number and a name. He dialled.

 

::

 

Indiana sat on one of the barstools inside of the SAMCRO clubhouse. She sipped on water as she tried to sort her thoughts from the night. She had no doubt that Joshua Manning would be in rough shape once Nero and Primo were done with him. She worried over what state they would find Irina in, and they would find her, she had faith in that much. Her mind glazed over the parts of the night when Joshua had touched her, assaulted her. She knew it would all be vivid and clear at some point, but shock still kept her numb to it.

 

She’d wanted to avoid the clubhouse but Happy had dragged her inside to be looked after. She’d been so nervous about seeing Mac, which she found to be ridiculous. She had been so overwhelmingly grateful to find out that he’d taken a call to Tacoma. She couldn’t face him, not yet, not after their fight. She still didn’t know what to say. She especially couldn’t imagine talking to him about their relationship, about his being with Crow Eaters when in the same day she had kissed and groped Happy, and later assaulted by Joshua Manning. Mac not being there was the respite she currently needed.

 

A figure sat down to her left and she turned. The man gave her a smile and his dimples nearly were lost by the facial scars. She managed a small smile in return. “Chibs,” he informed her while pointing his thumb at himself.

 

“Indiana,” she replied.

 

“I know,” his accent held the words and drawled them out. “You feelin’ alright?”

 

Her hand instinctively went to the back of her head. “Got a bit of a bump,” she admitted, “But I’m tougher than I look.”

 

“Figured,” he replied. Any child of Rane Quinn had to have some resilience. He flagged down V-Lin who passed off a beer to Tig. Once he had the man’s attention he tapped two fingers on the bar in front of him. No need for words, the newly patched man got him a glass and a bottle of Jameson. “Who’s got you working?” He asked V-Lin.

 

V-Lin shifted under the gaze of the Vice President. “Tig.”

 

“Tell him to go fuck himself,” Chibs advised and then waved the man off. “Go have a drink, play a round of pool, get your dick wet.” V-Lin looked a little uncertain but the Chibs just stared at him until he felt unnerved and walked away. Chibs shook his head and poured himself a couple generous fingers of whiskey. He turned to the young woman. “You want some,” he asked gesturing to the bottle.

 

“No thanks,” she replied holding up her glass of water in a small salute.

 

He took a sip of the alcohol and watched out of the corner of his eyes as Indiana scanned the clubhouse. He’d watched her from across the room for a while and noticed how every five minutes or so she’d give the place another look over. He considered the fact that it could be nerves, but it didn’t ring true to him. He added the information to the fact that Happy had lost it when Indiana had been first introduced. Something had happened between them. Indiana’s constant checks had started up about the time that Happy had stormed out of the Clubhouse without a word. Chibs didn’t want to pry, but as V.P he needed to know if the volatile undercurrent the two had was going to be a problem.

 

After a cursory glance around the room he decided to go for the shock factor. He turned to face her needing to see her face and gauge her reaction. “So, you and Hap.”

 

She stared at the selection of alcohol on the wall. “What about us?” To her credit, she didn’t flinch. She turned to face Chibs and took a small sip of her water.

 

He couldn’t decide if he’d read too much into her and Happy’s earlier responses to one another or if she had a wicked poker face. It wouldn’t surprise him if she could mask her emotions or navigate being questioned being Rane Quinn’s daughter and all.

 

“You two have a falling out?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

 

“He insisted on seeing me as a child,” Indiana replied. They had been frosty to one another when she’d first been introduced to the SAMCRO men. She had to give some kind of explanation that explained it and stopped people from looking too closely. “By the time I went to college, it got real old.”

 

“You did get touchy when he called you ‘Quinn’s kid.’”

 

“Yeah, well, I have a name,” Indiana snapped. “I am more than my father’s child.”

  
Being a father himself, he immediately became aware of the hurt under the anger in her voice. Paternal instinct to protect had him backing down from the subject. They fell into a silence and Chibs, not for the first time, considered the consequences to the children of the Sons. Abel had been kidnapped, Kenny and Ellie lost their parents to unspeakable violence, Dawn had been burnt alive. He wondered sometimes how his own daughter handled who her parents were, Fi being affiliated with the IRA, and he being with SAMCRO with an ocean between himself and his family. Now, here sat the daughter of a man he respected and he had no doubt that holding up the last name ‘Quinn’ couldn’t be easy.

 

Chibs turned and looked at Indiana. She appeared serious, and her shoulders were weighed down by the weight of the day. He nudged her a little and shot her a playful grin. “You must take after your ma,” he commented, “’Cause your dad is one ugly fucker.”

 

Indiana burst out laughing and Chibs noticed that some of the guys had turned to look at her. She tried to stop, nearly succeeded before she succumbed to another fit. She wiped tears from her eyes. “I’ll tell him you said that.”

 

“Do, and tell him he still owes me fifty bucks,” Chibs answered before taking a sip of his whiskey.

 

“I actually take after my dad,” Indiana mused as she stared down at her glass of water. “The height, the hair although I put more effort into mine. I’m told I have my mother’s eyes.”

 

“I never met her.” In fact, Chibs couldn’t recall ever meeting an Old Lady of Quinn’s, then again, he hadn’t known the man had a child until she showed up at the clubhouse as their asset. He and Quinn got along alright, had similar stances on things but due to distance never became close.

  
“Me either,” she whispered.

 

He frowned noting he’d trespassed into undesirable territory. “Sorry.”

 

She shrugged. “That’s life.”

 

He wanted her laughing again. The sad, lost look on her face reminded him of how Kerrianne had looked when he last left Belfast. He hoped that if his brothers were around his girl when she felt sad that they would cheer her up and so he wanted to do that for Quinn.

 

“I’m going to tell you a story,” he declared, turning on the stool to face her properly.

 

She looked over at him and raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

 

“Happy,” Chibs decided since he knew her to be familiar with their former Nomad. She looked wary and he laughed. “It’s a good story.” Not waiting for her to reply, he launched into it. “This was some time ago. Four or five years now I suspect. Anyway, Tig, Juice, Hap and I are at this bar.” He changed the setting slightly, no point in telling the girl they’d been at the Jelly Bean, he never wanted to admit even going there once, it had to be the worst strip club ever. “We get shitfaced,” he admitted. Getting hammered is the only way to trick your brain into staying at the Jelly Bean, likely why the drinks there are three dollars cheaper than any other joint. “Real shitfaced,” he stressed. “And then these guys come in. We’ve had trouble with these guys before, and they’ve got the kind of numbers we can’t fight with, especially not with so many other people around.”

 

Indiana took a sip of her water to cool her throat that still ached from screaming and hyperventilating.  “So what did you do?”

 

“Not much, they muscle us out back, and you know Hap, all cold and calculating. He’s eyeing these guys and we’re all waiting for shit to go down.” Chibs tossed back the rest of his Jameson and put the glass back on the bar. “One of the guys start talking. Juice can’t stand still for shit, especially when we all know a fight is coming so he’s bouncing on his toes and I can tell that Tig and Hap are getting pissed, I’m just waiting for the fists to start flying.”

 

“Well, what happened?” Indiana pressed for more information wondering where the Scotsman was taking the story.

 

“Projectile vomit.”

 

“Ew,” Indiana’s nose wrinkled up in disgust but a smile pulled on her lips. She’d hung out with men for way too long not to have what most considered a masculine sense of humour. “Who? Hap?”

 

“Yeah,” Chibs nodded. “All down the guy who was trying to talk to us.”

 

Indiana couldn’t hold back an unfeminine snort before the laughter full out escaped. “That’s gross!”

 

Chibs shared in her laugh. He hadn’t considered the ‘gross’ factor. He’d told similar stories of debauchery to his daughter who always cracked up.

 

The young woman pushed some of her long hair over her shoulder. “So what happened after that?”

 

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “We all went home.”

 

“Liar,” Indiana hissed accusingly. “What really happened, Chibs?”

 

He thought about what happened the rest of the night and pieced together a version that would satisfy her and keep SAMCRO secrets out of it. “Well, they took us for a ride. Weren’t really happy with us SAMCRO boys and they figured with us four drunken bastards they’d have some kind of leverage.” Chibs gave a small shrug before he mulled over what he could tell. “Juice couldn’t stop laughing, he’d smoked a fatty before we’d started drinking- completely in the bag. Tig and Hap are both pissed and aggressive so the other guys cuffed ‘em to better keep them under control.”

 

“And you?”

 

“I was their best chance at reaching an agreement with SAMCRO and they knew it. Tiggy might have been Sargent but his temper wouldn’t get them anywhere. They let me talk to Clay,” Chibs explained. “Well things got strained pretty fast. I had my back to them all, being that I was on the phone but I hear this grunt and a gun go off. I think Tig had shoulder tackled a guy and the gun went off. Tig was on his feet in any case, the gun ended up on the ground. A second guy had his gun trained on Tig. Happy had his arms cuffed behind him but he got them under his ass, sat down and brought his arms under his feet and back to the front, got the gun and… well we didn’t have a problem with those guys again if you get what I’m saying.”

 

“Yeah, you brought them a bouquet of flowers and chocolates,” she replied with her heart beating quickly in her chest.

 

He gave her a wiry grin. “Guess that story doesn’t have the best of endings.”

 

“I don’t know, you guys all kissing and making up is real touching,” she managed to say with a straight face.

 

He laughed, shook his head and then poured himself another glass.

 

The door to the clubhouse opened and Indiana immediately turned. She couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips. Happy walked in, under his arm stood Desiree from Diosa. Light mocha skin, generous curves, dark and mysterious eyes, sensual smile that spoke of long nights of carnal pleasure. Her heart dropped and her stomach felt as though it had been filled with stones.

 

Happy’s eyes met hers briefly, and she found contempt in them. She straightened up and shot him a haughty look. She watched until Happy and Desiree disappeared down the hall. She pushed down the urge to cry. He kissed her, played her in the shadows and yet paraded some Diosa escort around his brothers. No surprise, nothing new. He never had trouble getting a Crow Eater when he wanted one, she remembered clearly him taking women to the back rooms at Sanctuary. He’d taken her to one of those very backrooms, just like one of those common whores and after when he was done with her, regretting her, she felt like one.

 

She turned to Chibs hoping that her eyes didn’t betray how broken she felt. “I think I’ll have a shot of that now.”

 

The door opened again, and this time Nero walked in. He looked around until he found Indiana and walked over. “Manning won’t be a problem,” he said to both the V.P and Indiana. “Irina is okay.”

 

She read between the lines. Manning is dead. Irina is alive. She nodded knowing that Nero wouldn’t likely give her more than that while there were so many people around.

 

“I’ll take you back to the house,” Nero said.  

  
Indiana nodded. She didn’t want to stay in the SAMCRO clubhouse not with Happy in one of the backrooms with Desiree. She knew the events of the day were going to catch up with her, and when they did, she would fall apart. The last thing she wanted was for the mother charter to see her breakdown.

 

She looked at the shot that Chibs had poured for her but didn’t take it. She grabbed his shoulder as she slid off the stool. “Thank you for the company, and the laugh.”

 

He gave her a small smile and a nod.

 

She followed Nero out of the clubhouse, the cool air caressed her skin and her feet urged her to run. She ignored her flighty tendencies and followed Nero to the big truck.

                                                    

::

 

Rain poured down in sheets but Kerrianne didn’t mind that in the least. Native to Ireland, she was no stranger to rain. She nearly always had a small umbrella in her purse because one could never know when the sky would decide to lash out. She huddled in her thick grey cardigan as a cool breeze swept by bringing droplets of rain in under the safety of the umbrella. She quickened her pace and expertly avoided puddles.

 

She had a long night shift that had bled into the early morning hours. Now at nearly seven in the morning, while the rest of Ireland started to wake, she thought about going to sleep.

 

Kerrianne walked into the loft that she shared with her ma. She closed her umbrella and hung it on a hook to dry. Her ma’s head poked out of the kitchen, and a smile flashed upon her face. “Morning, Kerri.”

 

“G’night, Ma,” Kerrianne replied with a yawn as she walked by. She didn’t even wonder about why her mother might be up so early until she’d made it to her room, and she didn’t have any desire to go out and ask.

 

She loved her room. She’d chosen a nice Tiffany blue for the walls, she had a warm quilt that she’d cherished since childhood on her bed. She’d gotten a small room and had crammed it with the double bed, computer desk, and a long chest of drawers. On her walls, she had a few framed pictures. She walked over and looked at the images and they brought a smile to her face. The first image depicted her three year old self sitting on her father’s lap, no scars yet on his face just a smile complete with dimples. Her hand touched the plain black frame. “I miss you, Da,” she whispered sadly. She’d kept the picture hidden under her mattress while growing up with Jimmy in the house, afraid that he would even take the very image of her father away from her.

 

The next picture had been taken on her sixteenth birthday. She was holding her hair back and blowing out the candles on a lovely vanilla cake that her ma had made. Her ma was smiling in the background, it was one of the rare pictures of her mother’s smile that she had and she cherished it. Jimmy had been away on business so it had just been the two of them eating cake, doing each other’s nails and watching chick flicks.

 

The third picture made her heart clench. Padraic Telford smiled at something off the camera, his handsome profile immortalized on film. She let out a sigh. Due to Jimmy’s interference she hadn’t got to spend much time around her cousin, but she remembered his laughter and jokes.

 

The fourth photo framed on her wall showed her with her parents sitting together on a worn out couch, it had been taken by Juice before they left after rescuing Abel, and he’d send her the photograph a few weeks after the SAMCRO boys had returned to California.

 

The last one made her smile, it _always_ made her smile. Her ma had snapped a picture of her with Trinity and Juice playing cards. Juice was laughing, she was glaring at him and Trinity was about to throw candy at his head. Even caught on film, Juice’s smile was contagious.

 

She had a pile of other pictures that she wanted to get framed but hadn’t had the time or inclination.  She looked at her bed, so very inviting. She stripped her damp shirt and threw it into her hamper. She pulled from the pockets of her jeans a five pound note, a receipt for Soor Plooms, and her new cellphone. She tossed the money and paper on her desk but kept her phone in hand. Her eyes returned to the last picture and she grinned.

 

Kerrianne flipped open her phone and dialled the familiar number. She pinned the cellphone between her ear and her shoulder as she unbuttoned her jeans.

 

_“Hello?”_ The line came with plenty of background noise.

 

“Hey Juice,” Kerrianne replied as she wiggled her hips as she pulled at her jeans. “This is my new number.”

 

_“Kerri.”_ She could hear the smile in his voice and it pleased her.

  
“I hope I’m not interrupting your night.” She got the jeans down and kicked them toward the hamper before she bent down to take off her socks.

 

_“No way! How are you?”_

 

“Good,” Kerrianne replied as she sat down on her bed. As irrational as it might be, she couldn’t strip down naked while on the phone with her friend. “You?”

 

_“Good. I’m working on my bike,”_ he replied. _“It’s being a bit of a pain in the ass at the moment, so I welcome the break.”_

 

“You often work on your bike so late?” Kerrianne asked as she walked across her room and shut the dark drapes just in case the sun decided to make an appearance.

 

_“Couldn’t sleep.”_

 

Her hand went and lightly touched over her heart. She worried about her friend sometimes. She had begun to suspect he was an insomniac. She called him frequently and at all times of the day or night and only twice had she ever woken him up.

 

_“What time is it there?”_ he muttered. _“Got to be morning, five or six?”_

  
“A little after seven,” Kerrianne replied.

  
_“Shit, I must have been out here longer than I thought.”_

 

She laughed and shook her head. “Tell me you at least had dinner.”

 

_“What are you, my mother?”_

 

“Someone has to watch out for you, Knucklehead.”

 

_“Knucklehead? Seriously? Is that the best you got?”_

 

“Shut up, I just worked all night.”

 

_“You need to brush up on your insults, Miss Larkin-Telford.”_

 

“You need to just shut your mouth, Mr. Ortiz.”  A long moment of silence followed and she realized he was doing exactly what she’d told him to. She let out an annoyed groan. “Juice, knock it off, I’m not paying long distance charges to listen to nothing.”

 

_“So you pay just to talk to me? I’m not even making dirty suggestions.”_

 

Her ears burned and she knew they were red. “Oh my God, Juice!”

 

_“What, no great rebuttal? You must be tired,”_ he sounded sympathetic, his voice becoming softer. _“Go to bed, Kerri.”_  

 

“I’m not tired.”

 

_“What is it you say when, according to you, I’m acting like a child? Oh, that’s right ‘dry your arse.’ You are so tired and you’re denying it like a four year old. Go to bed and get some rest.”_

 

“Oh piss off,” she grumbled as she laid back on the bed. She fought the urge to close her eyes. “You should be in bed too.”

 

_“You want me in bed?”_

 

Her mouth gaped open and she floundered for something to say. He had a great sense of humour and occasionally, like tonight, it had a sexual edge. Part of her enjoyed the teasing, another part felt uncomfortable participating since she had real feelings for him under the jokes. “Don’t be an idjit!”

 

He laughed. _“Sweet dreams, Kerri.”_

 

“Thanks.”

 

_“I’ll be in them.”_

 

“Juice!”

  
_“Sorry,”_ He laughed and didn’t sound sorry at all. _“I couldn’t help it.”_

 

“Good night, Juan!”

 

_“G’night, Kerrianne.”_

 

She hung up the phone and tossed it onto the floor before rolling onto her back. Exhaustion overtook her, and sure enough, she dreamt of him.

 

::

 

Chibs didn’t even bother to flick on a light when he got into his little house. He kicked off his shoes and toward the hall knowing his place well enough in the dark not to bump into anything. He felt his age, and the weight of the club rested heavily on his shoulders. He shrugged off his kutte and laid it over his dresser.

 

His phone rang and he pulled it slowly from his pocket. The long distance number made him smile and he answered. “Fi.”

 

_“Filip.”_

 

Her voice eased the tension between his shoulders, he sat down heavily on the bed. He ran a hand through his hair. “I fucking miss you.” Each day it seemed to get harder to be without her. After first having to leave Ireland he went years with a horrible ache inside of him, the ache for his precious Fi. Years passed and it lessened but it never truly went away. Now that he occasionally flew out to Belfast to see them, the time spent apart felt like purgatory. 

 

Her breathy sigh came over the line and he shut his weary eyes. _“I miss you too, Filip. Sometimes I walk around the loft, and there are these words at the tip of my tongue and I turn only to remember you aren’t here with me.”_

 

He ran his free hand over his face. “It has to be like this,” he groaned as he fell back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Neither of them liked being apart. Circumstances put them into a horrible position. It felt to both as if they were still being punished for their own faults and actions from decades ago.

 

_“I know,”_ she replied, her words soft and meant to comfort. _“I understand the situation, but it doesn’t mean I have to like having an ocean between us. I wish you were here, sharing the bed with me. I’m cold Filip, I want to snuggle up to you. We’re married so technically speaking fifty percent of your body heat is mine.”_

 

He cracked a smile and he forgot all about the fact that he had a busy day ahead of him. “Is that so?”

 

_“It is, clearly you didn’t read the marriage contract.”_

 

“Well of course I didn’t,” Chibs replied with a laugh. “I was distracted by you in that dress, fucking gorgeous all prim and proper but you kept shooting me those bedroom eyes.” With his eyes closed, her laughter seemed like it came from right beside him. He could almost smell the lavender bath salts she enjoyed bathing in before coming to bed.

 

_“I was not giving you bedroom eyes,”_ Fiona argued.

 

“Oh yes, you were.”

 

_“I was not!”_ She might have sounded indignant but her voice had undertones of barely concealed laughter. _“You were the one undressing me with your eyes.”_

 

“Of course I was,” Chibs responded. “I have a pulse. Speaking of undressing you, what are you wearing?”

 

_“Who says I’m wearing anything?”_ She responded coyly.

 

He groaned and his body tensed. “You’re fucking wicked, Fi.”

_“You love me anyway.”_

 

“I do,” he replied. “Are you in the bedroom?” He asked trying to conjure a mental image of his wife and her surroundings. He’d gotten pretty good at it, considering they went months at a time without seeing each other. Phone sex wasn’t the same as holding her, tasting her, being inside of her, but it kept them feeling connected emotionally and sexually to one another.

 

_“Yes,”_ she replied. _“I’m laying down under the covers, trying to get warm. Where are you? Are you at home or the clubhouse?”_

 

“Home. Bedroom,” he replied.

 

_“Are you sitting?”_

 

“Laying down.”

_“Under the covers, or over?”_

 

“You’re nosey.”

 

_“I just want a precise image,”_ she defended.

 

“Over.”

 

_“What are you wearing?”_

 

“Shirt,” he muttered. “Jeans. Socks.”

 

_“No boxers?”_

 

“Yes, boxers.”

 

_“Well you didn’t say.”_

 

“Well you can’t see them.”

 

_“Mental image, Filip. Take them off.”_

 

“Now why did you need to know what I’m wearing if you’re just going to demand I take it all off?”

 

_“Well, Filip, so I can accurately envision you stripping down.”_

He put his phone on speaker and let it fall to the bed. He pulled off the dark button up shirt he’d been wearing and let it fall to the floor. “What are you doing, Fi?” he asked as he pulled off the white wifebeater he’d been wearing underneath.

 

Her giggle sounded mischievous and it sent a thrill through him. _“Spreading my legs,”_ she replied, her voice husky. _“Running my fingertips down my thighs. Imaging your rougher hands on me, grazing against my skin. You’re always teasing me, Filip. Have you got your shirt off yet?”_

 

“Yeah.”

 

A hum of approval filled the room. _“I love your tattoos, tracing over the designs with my fingertips. Can you feel me?”_

 

He ran his hands through his hair. “Did you once have a life as a sex phone operator?”

 

_“Filip,”_ she drew his name out and it sounded so needy. _“I’m so wet.”_ Her short and simple proclamation shot arousal through his system. He ran his hand over the bulge in the front of his jeans before quickly ridding himself of the denim and his boxers. _“The socks too,”_ Fiona said affectionately. _“So eager, you nearly always jump the gun and try to get in bed with your socks on.”_

 

“Once,” he muttered as he took his socks off. “I did that once.”

 

She scoffed. _“Get into bed.”_

 

He adjusted the pillows before laying down on the bed. “I’m in bed.” He never felt particularly good at the prelude. He could indulge in foreplay for a great deal of time when she was around, but he followed Fiona’s lead over the phone. 

 

_“How are you feeling?”_

 

The automatic ‘fine’ nearly fell from his lips but she knew him better than anyone. His wife deserved the truth. “I was tired but not so much anymore. You always get me twisted up into knots, Fi. Ever since your last call, I’ve been thinking about you.”

 

_“I get the feeling I wasn’t wearing much in your thoughts,”_ her voice had dropped the humour and he could hear her breath.

 

“Nothing at all,” he replied. “Fucking had to wait for the raging hard-on you gave me to calm down before I could ride.”

 

She let out a pleased sound. _“Is that so?”_

 

“Yeah, it is.”

 

_“I wish you were here.”_ She sounded lost and he sighed. _“I want to run my hands through your hair, you haven’t gotten it cut, have you?”_

  
“No.”

 

_“Good, I like it long. Oh, Filip, I just want to run my hands down your chest.”_ Each word had a desperate edge. _“I’ll leave a trail of kisses down your throat, your chest. I want to lick your hard cock.”_ His anatomy in question twitched, excited by the breathy words of his wife. _“I want to tease the head with my tongue, taste you.”_

“Fuck, you’ve got me so hard, Fi.”  He could hear her heavy breathing over the line and it excited him. He gripped his cock and gave a firm pull. “I just want to be inside your tight wet pussy. You’re always so fucking hot for me, Love.”

 

_“Yes,”_ she gasped. _“Inside me, please, inside me.”_

 

He figured there was a high probability that she’d end up putting him through cardiac arrest one of these days. Her quick pleas were music to his ears. “You touchin’ yourself, Fi? Imagining that it’s my hands instead of yours?”

 

_“Oh yes. Tell me, tell me what you’d do to me if you were here.”_

 

The order put a smile on his face as he jerked himself off. With his eyes closed he could call upon years worth of memories to help along his mental image of her tossing and turning in bed as she pleasured herself. “I’d kiss you, tangle my hands in your wild curls. I’d make my way down to your neck and mark it so for the next week everyone would know just who you were with.” She’d always gotten annoyed in their youth when he’d given her hickeys, but she didn’t seem to mind as much since they’d gotten back together with Jimmy out of the way. “I’d run my hands all over your body but paying special attention to that fantastic rack of yours. I want to hold them, squeeze them, lick, suck and bite them.”

 

_“Fuck, Filip,”_ her voice whined as she panted.

 

“Kiss my way down to that little birthmark on your hip, but my fingers would trail even lower.” She moaned and it made his body tighten with the building pleasure. “I’d find you so fucking wet, wouldn’t I?”

 

_“Yes,”_ she whispered breathlessly.

 

“I’d shove two fingers into that hot, tight pussy.”

 

_“I always love it when you do that,”_ she gasped and let out a quiet moan. _“You always make me feel so good!”_

“I’d lose patience,” he admitted as he stroked himself thinking up the erotic words and enjoying her breathy responses. “I’d lose control with need to be inside you. I’d taste you off my fingers.”

 

_“Oh God.”_

 

“I love the way you taste, always have. Fucking addicting since that first time you let me pleasure you like that. Do you remember?”

 

_“Vividly. I was eighteen. We were down by the river hidden by the trees. Anyone could have happened upon us but you talked me out of my shorts and panties. I was standing, my back against the tree and you were ravenous. Your teeth scraping along my inner thighs got me so worked up. Your tongue slipping through my folds and slipping inside of me.”_

 

He remembered clearly, the taste of her, the feel of her soft skin, and the sight of her losing inhibitions. She cried out for him, breathed his name like a prayer and begged for release.

 

_“I didn’t even notice how bits of the tree were digging into my back until we were done and I’d calmed down,”_ Fiona admitted. _“You took my panties with you and returned me back to my parents place in just my shorts.”_ She let out a sweet little whimper. _“I want to ride your big cock.”_

The jarring return from past to present shook him up and sent desire straight through his body. “I love it when you ride me,” he confessed although he’d told her that a million times before. “I love watching your breasts bounce, your face get all twisted with pleasure, your hair cascading down.”

 

She panted over the phone line and the heavy breaths filled the room. _“I’d sink down on you, nice and slow, enjoy how you stretch me, fill me. I’d take the time to lavish you with kisses and trace some of your tattoos with my tongue. I’d keep my hands on your chest for balance while I ride you, slowly up and dropping down hard.”_

 

His hand mimicked the sex described and he felt desperate for release. “Fuck, Fi. You’re so sexy when you do that.”

 

Her frantic breaths were matched by his own. _“Oh, yes,”_ she cried. _“So close, I’m so close.”_

 

Her proclamation had him on the edge of sanity. “I just want to grab your hips and pound that sweet pussy of yours.”

 

She cried out and he lost his last tether of control.  Neither said anything. The sound of their heavy breathing mingled.

 

Her laughter broke through and he knew there was a smile on her face. She gave a little hum. _“I really enjoyed that.”_

 

His heart still beat too fast, but his lips curved upward. “Me too.” For a few minutes, it felt as though she’d been with him. Sometimes, he could forget just how much space separated them, and in those moments he felt whole.

 

Reality slowly settled back into place and he let out a sigh. He longed for his wife, to have his family united under one roof. One day, perhaps, but not yet. He didn’t blame Kerrianne for clinging to her home. She’d gone through so much and the one thing that remained constant in her life had been her country where she’d been born, where she had friends and a job and a sense of familiarity.

 

_“Do you remember when you had to take that job for the IRA when I was eight months pregnant?”_ Fiona asked.

 

He stared up at the ceiling with confusion written on his face. He couldn’t think of why he would bring it up. “Yeah, why?”

 

_“I was all hormonal and I thought that you leaving was the end of the world. I didn’t know if you’d be back from the job by the time I would be giving birth. I felt so scared, I was terrified that something might happen to you.”_

 

He shook his head and propped himself up on one of his elbows. “Why are you bringing this up now, Fi?”

 

_“Because, my love, despite what I thought it was not the end. You kept your word and returned to me weeks before the delivery. Whatever happens Filip, nothing ever keeps us apart. Not really. Not the IRA, not Jimmy, and certainly not some fucking ocean. I am with you. Always.”_

His Fiona always had a way with words, and he felt a lump in his throat from the sudden rush of emotion. “And I with you,” he replied softly. “I love you, Fi.”

 

_“I love you too, Filip. Now, get your rest. I’m going to jump in the shower. Get all lathered in soap, rub it all over-“_

 

“Fiona!”

 

Her laughter filled the room. _“Sorry, Love.”_

 

“No you’re not.”

  
_“You’re right, I’m not. I just want you to have a good mental image of me in the shower, naked and wet and soapy just to make sure you don’t get any ideas while those tramps at the clubhouse are parading around in jean cut-offs and leather bustiers.”_

 

“You know I only have eyes for you,” he replied with a touch of anger. Sure, he’d taken Crow Eaters to bed before, back when she’d been with Jimmy and the entire world was shit. Things had changed when he’d returned to Belfast on the mission to save Abel, and stresses had eased when he’d killed Jimmy. He and Fiona had been a solid couple ever since, but he could tell that the distance worried her. Hell, it worried him. Having his woman in Ireland while he was stuck in the United States left him with plenty of sleepless nights. SAMCRO had made enemies, his family remained relatively unprotected. A few SAMBEL members checked in with Fiona at his request but the fact that he couldn’t be there to keep them safe personally just about tore him apart.

 

_“This isn’t easy,”_ Fiona admitted. _“But we’ve been through worse. I just don’t like the idea of those women around you.”_

“Are you jealous?”

 

_“That they get to be around you? Yes, of course I am.”_

“But I’m with you Fi. Always.”

 

She sighed. _“Sorry. I’m not making this any easier on either of us.”_

“I’ll try and figure out when I can come and visit you two again,” he promised. “We have a little situation at Diosa. Some side shit that’s being dealt with. Maybe when it’s cleared up and running smooth I’ll sneak away for a week.”

 

_“I’d like that,_ ” Fiona whispered. _“Now sleep. I don’t want you getting hurt because you ended up sleep deprived.”_

He yawned. “You worry too much.”

 

_“With a husband like you? Of course I worry. For heaven’s sake, Filip, you got blown up.”_

“I didn’t get blown up,” he scoffed. “I got thrown in a blast of an explosion. The difference is that we’re able to have this conversation right now.”

 

_“The point is I would like you to stay safe for me.”_

“I’ll try my best.”

 

_“I guess that is the best I can hope for. Now, I have to get ready for work or I’ll be late.”_

“Have a good day, Fi.”

 

_“Get some rest, Old Man.”_

He heard the click as the line disconnected and he smiled at the old moniker that left her lips. She didn’t have much love for the club life, and preferred being called his wife to ‘Old Lady.’ She rarely ever called him her ‘Old Man,’ but he liked it when she did. It felt as though she’d grown more open to the life he now lived.

 

As he had every night for the past two weeks, when he fell asleep he dreamt of blood and violence for a man like him didn’t get peace, not even as he slept. 


	19. Resolve

Tara ate her cereal at the kitchen table. Jax sat across from her with Thomas on his lap playing with a little stuffed monkey. Abel stood at her side and watched her intently. She ran her free hand over his head and shot him a grin. "Did I get some milk on my chin?"

"No," he replied. He tugged slightly on the hem of her shirt, as if to ensure he had her full attention. "You're not going to go away again, right?"

Jax's cool blue eyes met hers from across the table. He gave her a sad little smile and she shot one back in return. She'd been released and the case couldn't be tried again but both knew that the life held no promises. "No," she said softly to reassure her son. "I'm not going anywhere." As much as she wanted it to be true, she couldn't guarantee a damn thing. She'd helped the club and it nearly destroyed her. It appeared that it had killed her career. The Oregon deal had gotten wiped right off the table. All she had now was family: her sons, her husband and her title as an Old Lady.

A knock at the door had the spoon falling from Tara's fingers. Her eyes widened and her heart started to race. She knew that the wave of fear was irrational but couldn't control it.

Jax took notice of his startled wife and anger coursed through him. If she should feel secure anywhere it should be her home, especially when he sat right there. He felt the guilt and the shame that came with the knowledge that he'd played a part in putting her in such a position. He hoisted Thomas up when he stood. "Here, take him," he said passing their child to Tara. "I'll get the door."

Tara held Thomas tightly to her body, his head rested against her shoulder and it only turned her panic up a notch. She couldn't take being separated from them again. As if sensing her unease, Abel stood a little closer and put his hand on her arm but his eyes trailed after his father.

Jax checked to ensure his gun still sat in the back of his jeans. He took a look at his wife and children and found Tara's eyes wide with panic and Abel's fixated with confusion and worry. With his hand on the grip of his gun and his body tensed for a fight, he looked through the peephole. He watched the woman on the other side shift in her stance and push her chestnut coloured hair out of her face. The tension in his body released and he let go of the gun. "It's Lowen," he announced before he pulled open the door and stepped back to let her in. "Hey."

"Hey," she replied as if the word felt improper on her tongue. She stepped in and Jax shut the door behind her. "I'm hoping that you and Tara have a moment."

Jax always figured if his lawyer wanted to talk, it was best to make that time. He nodded. "In the kitchen."

Ally walked into the kitchen ahead of him and gave Tara a reassuring smile. "Hello Tara."

Relieved to see a friendly face, Tara let out a sigh. "Hi Ally." She stood and adjusted Thomas who'd fallen asleep on her shoulder. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, I'm fine," Ally replied. "Thank you."

Abel looked lost in the kitchen looking up at everyone trying to figure out what was going on. Jax walked over and crouched down before his son. "Abel, can you go play in the living room please? Your mom and I need to talk to Miss Lowen about a few things."

The child pouted. "Will you play with me later?"

Jax's heart broke a little. "I can't, I have to work later." He felt as though the words were worn out. His son just wanted a bit of his time but he had so little to give. "Maybe tonight."

Abel's eyes grew sad but he nodded before he ambled off. Jax ran his hands over his face before he stood back up. "What is this about, Lowen?" He asked cutting right to it. "Did one of the guys get into something that I don't yet know about?"

"No," Ally replied as she sat down at the kitchen table.

Jax sat down alongside his wife and put an arm over her shoulder. "Well, what is it?"

"Jackson." Tara only needed his name and her quiet voice to scold him for being so pushy.

"It's not really any of my business but I'm worried about Lee Toric." Ally sat back in the chair. She worked best with evidence and facts but she had neither. Her lack of information left her in an uncomfortable position. Keeping the Sons safe remained in her best interest, so despite the lack of concrete evidence, she sat before the Teller-Knowles family.

Jax leaned forward a bit. "Has he spoken to you? Threatened you?" Being their lawyer, Ally Lowen fell under the protection of the Sons of Anarchy. She'd done plenty to prove herself capable in the courtroom and that made her a very useful asset. If something happened to Ally there would be retribution.

"No," Ally waved a hand as if to dispel the very thought of such a thing. "It's just that I've been doing some research, pulling a few strings and such."

"Why?" Jax interrupted. "I didn't ask you to."

"You didn't have to ask. Keeping your asses out of prison is my job," Ally replied with ease. She met with her clients under the worst of circumstances, his bristly behaviour had been expected. "Toric is smart. He's a former U.S Marshal. He has a history of brutality. He has friends in law enforcement and he knows how the system works."

"So?" Jax asked feeling impatient.

"So why have Tara brought in?" Ally questioned leaning in as she lowered her voice. "What does he gain? She got held for a few days but the case was dropped. It can't be tried again."

"That's a good thing though," Tara whispered not wanting Abel to overhear.

"It makes no sense," Ally argued before pushing some of her dark hair from her eyes. "Otto isn't going to talk, that's a dead end for him. Bringing you in on circumstantial evidence does little."

"Cut to the chase, Lowen," Jax snapped, reaching the end of his patience. "What are you getting at?"

"Oregon is dead," Ally said looking directly at Tara. "That keeps you in Charming. Toric must know about the RICO case and how it got killed when Otto murdered his sister. For a man like Toric, just getting Otto back isn't going to be enough." Her eyes drifted over to Jax. "I think he wants to take down the club."

Tara shook her head, her short dark locks swung. "I don't understand. Why would he want me out but kept in Charming."

Ally shrugged. "Because you were _there_ in the prison with his sister when she was murdered." Her eyes flicked to Jax and then returned to Tara. "I'm worried about you."

Jax's hand tightened around his wife's arm and he drew her a little closer. "You think Toric wants to hurt Tara?"

"I think he wants revenge," Ally replied simply. "I think he'll want to destroy the club, kill Otto and…" Ally's eyes averted. "This is all speculation, of course."

Jax turned to look at his wife. He'd known Ally for a number of years and he knew that she wouldn't have brought any of this up unless she truly believed that the club and Tara were in danger. He returned his gaze to the lawyer. "Lowen?" Her eyes met his and he gave a small nod of his head. "Thanks."

She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "It's my job."

::

Indiana awoke with the mother of all headaches. She groaned and lifted her head from the back of the couch. She hadn't intended on falling asleep there, but exhaustion had pulled her under. She threaded her fingers through her hair and felt the large bump left on the back of her head. Part of her wished she'd spent the night drinking with Chibs, at least then the headache would be self-inflicted.

Still dressed in the bold red dress, she stood and stretched out the best she could. She ached all over, parts she couldn't even remember getting hit in the fight hurt. She sauntered off into the kitchen, thankful that she'd kicked off the heels at least before falling to sleep.

While grabbing a glass of water and pills the events of night before came back to her. The memories returned in fragments and left her feeling weak in the knees. "Don't cry," she whispered to herself as she tipped the pill bottle.

She remembered Joshua's gentle caress as he pushed back some of her hair. "Don't cry," she repeated over and over like a mantra. Her hand shook and the pills spilt all over the counter. "Fuck!" She gave the bottle a little toss and it bounced off the toaster knocking out more pills. Her hands continued shaking until she flattened them on the counter.

_'You've been such a sweet girl.'_ Her arms and legs felt weak. She gave her head a quick shake but could remember stuttering in response. Humiliation warmed her cheeks, even though no one could see her she felt embarrassed by her weakness.

She abandoned the pills and water. Her feet stomped against the hardwood as she rushed to the bathroom. She stripped off the dress and threw it in the trash bin without a thought. The need to shower, to get his hands off of her was so strong that it kept out any rational thought. She hurried in, not waiting for the water to warm. The spray beat down on her body, the cold water making her shiver.

_'Good girl, such a good sweet girl.'_ A sob escaped her lips and she grabbed the corner shelf when her knees threatened to buckle. Tears mixed with the spray of the shower and she stood under it turning the heat up until it nearly scalded her. She scrubbed at her skin until it felt raw, turned the heat up until she could hardly stand it. When the heat was all she could think about and the fear relented she turned off the water and reached out to grab one of the towels.

She stepped out of the tub at the same time as she wrapped the towel around her body. Her right foot slid on the floor and while trying to stay upright her hands sought something to grab onto, one found purchase in the shower curtain but it didn't help keep her up. The towel dropped to the floor, half the shower curtain came down and her back slammed into the wall.

Her eyes squeezed tightly shut. A breath hissed out from between her clenched teeth. This time, when the memories bombarded her, they didn't strike her with fear. _"What, you like it rough?"_ His dark eyes haunted her, his fingers digging into her hips.

She sucked in a deep breath and pushed it all down. "Enough is enough," she grabbed her towel and kept her mind busy with numbers. She dried off in an efficient manner. She split her hair into thirds and braided it loosely mindful of the bump on the back of her head. She grabbed the pair of panties that had been on the top of the pile in her drawer, plain and blue and she didn't give a damn. She grabbed a black sports bra and pulled it on too.

Indiana yanked the doors to the closet open. She ran her hand over the row of blazers with a frown. She hated them all. They were confining, and prim and proper and she absolutely hated each and every one of the damn things. A necessary evil. No one would take her seriously if she wore what she liked. She was a mathematician. Currently she worked in a brothel, but even it had a dress code.

She found a pair of worn out brown shorts, a white tank top and a vibrant sheer orange button-up in her drawers and pulled on the familiar and comforting ensemble. She smoothed down the long sleeves and sat down on the bed. Nero had told her when he dropped her off the night before not to come in.

With nothing to do she went for her phone and without really thinking about it, she dialed a familiar number. She put the phone on speaker, letting it sit on the blankets while she laid back. Her arms reached out and she grabbed a pillow and hugged it close.

_"About time,"_ the gruff voice answered. " _I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me."_

She smiled at the sound of his voice, and suddenly a weight lifted from her shoulders. "Hi Daddy."

_"My Little Anarchist, don't leave it so long next time. Got it?"_

"Got it," she affirmed. "So, how is Sanctuary managing?" She heard him huff out a breath on the other end.

_"Everything's fine."_

"What's really going on?" Indiana persisted knowing her father well enough to know when he kept something back.

_"Nothing Indie. I just think Tink needs a break, of course, she'd never say so."_ The fondness in her father's voice when he spoke of Tink made Indiana smile. " _Some guy was hitting on Emily while she was working,"_ Quinn growled. _"Now he needs dental surgery and he's filing some bullshit report up on Angus."_

Indiana rubbed her temples. "She didn't tell me." She wished she could have been there for her friend, but it was so like Emily to try to help everyone else but insist she could handle everything that came her way on her own.

_"It was a little more than hitting on,"_ Quinn replied angrily. _"And Wilson is on it. Don't worry, nothing will stick to Angus."_

She glanced over at her phone at the mention of the Nomad's lawyer. "I thought he retired."

_"I convinced him it would be in his best interest."_

She shook her head but knew better than to comment. Angus had a rather amicable personality but she knew if anything happened to Emily his temper would get the best of him so the charges didn't come as much of a surprise. She felt for Tink, who now had double the work since her trip to Charming. She knew her father could work the numbers but disliked doing them, and took three times as long as she did. She missed her family. Especially after everything that happened the night before, she desperately wanted to have a couple nights at the family home.

_"You getting anywhere with that job?"_

Indiana bit down on her lower lip as her eyes pricked. "Yeah," she managed to reply. She rubbed her fists over her eyes trying to make the tears go away.

_"What's wrong?"_

"Nothing."

_"Indiana. Don't lie to me."_

"It's just," she ran her hand over her face and let out a sigh. "It's nothing really. I'm just homesick I guess."

_"You've been away from home longer than this before."_

"Yeah, I know."

_"You weren't homesick then."_

She shrugged even though he couldn't see the gesture. "I kinda was, but I was like nineteen and had a point to prove."

_"You can always come home,"_ her father offered. " _I promise there won't be any fallout."_ There would be fallout, Indiana knew, but her father would shield her from it. She didn't even consider it as an option. She'd taken the job and she would see it through. Like when she was nineteen at school in South Dakota, she had a point to prove here in Charming. She wouldn't run away from this problem, she'd figure it out and help the club.

"I'm going to see this through, Dad," Indiana promised and sat up on the bed. She grabbed her phone, took it off speaker and brought it to her ear. Her eyes went to her closet filled with professional attire. "I need to get back to work." The sooner she figured it all out, the sooner she could see her family.

Despite the fact that Nero had told her to take the day off, she quickly got off the phone with her father and changed into a slate grey suit with a cream coloured camisole. She twisted her long hair up into a bun and secured it with an elastic. She'd push herself through the day, get some real work done. Sitting alone in the house wouldn't give her rest, it would plague her with time to think, to remember.

She threw her clutch into her purse and slung it over her shoulder. She slipped her feet into a pair of sensible black flats and locked up when she left. She still felt guilty over what happened to Irina, despite the fact she hadn't been trained for the job she had still played a part in what transpired. She wanted to get specifics on Irina's condition from Nero. Her mind worried over the other woman as she slipped into her car. She tossed her bag onto the passenger's seat.

She pushed the key in and gave it a turn. It made a whirling sound, sputtered and choked. She let up and sat in the silence for a second. "You have got to be kidding me," she muttered under her breath. As if she didn't have enough to deal with, now her car had decided to… have some kind of problem. She knew car models but knew nothing about their internal workings. "Come on," she whispered. "Don't do this to me." She gave the key another turn and it made a bit of a grinding sound before choking again.

In frustration, Indiana slammed her fist down on the dashboard. "Japanese piece of shit!" she screamed. Her head fell back to the headrest. "And now I sound like my dad," she muttered. "Great." She took a couple of calming breaths and put her hand on the key. "Come on, come on, just get me to work," she plead with the machine before turning the key, it sputtered but caught, the dashboard lit up, music started to play softly and Indiana let out a breath.

The car did get her to work, she felt uneasy about turning off the vehicle but figured at worst she could call a cab back to the house. She grabbed her purse and locked up the Prius as she walked toward the front of Diosa. A pleased looking client led one of the escorts around the corner and Indiana slipped out of the way, hardly even noticed.

She took a deep breath before opening the door, thankfully Happy wasn't there. She smiled and waved to Lyla who was on the phone. Lyla gave a grin and a wave back before continuing to book an appointment. She went back to the hallway of offices and stopped in front of Nero's. She thought about going directly to her office and getting to work so he couldn't tell her to go home. Her concern over Irina got the best of her and she knocked on Nero's office door.

The door opened almost immediately and she stood face to face with a pudgy man in an expensive looking tailored grey suit. He had dark eyes that stared up at her in a way that made her feel unsettled, frown lines were etched deep into his features, and the receding hairline didn't do him any favours. "Who the hell are you?" He asked grumpily.

Before she could open her mouth, the door opened a bit further and she could see Nero standing behind the man. "Mason, this is Indiana. I personally got audited, she's doing my paperwork."

"Hmph." Mason pushed past her and continued down the hall.

"Well, he's friendly," Indiana muttered.

Nero stepped out into the hall and shut the door behind himself. "My other two accountants in my office getting their new work orders and papers. They're all out of sorts because I'm splitting up the work between them. None of them have access to everything anymore." Nero lowered his voice, "another hundred thousand is missing."

Indiana's mouth dropped a little but she recovered quickly. "I'll figure it out," she vowed. "How is Irina?"

Rubbing his temples didn't help Nero's headache. He frowned and looked over at Indiana. "She's doing as well as can be expected. She's hurt all over though. She's at Saint Thomas recuperating." Anger flowed through his words. He felt responsible for what happened to Irina, and was already working to adjust the computer system to ensure something like this never happened again. "Just for her own piece of mind I have one of my guys standing outside her door at all time. Manning can't hurt her," his eyes softened, remembering the fact that Indiana had been injured as well. "Or anyone for that matter, ever again."

The door behind him opened and the second accountant came out. Indiana studied him and decided he fit into the 'bookish' category. Thick rimmed black glasses over his green eyes, neatly clipped black hair, dark grey slacks, white shirt with a blue and beige sweater-vest over it. He didn't look like he should even be out of college yet. "Oh," he said while pushing his glasses up his nose. "Hello."

"Hi," she gave him a smile and extended her hand. "I'm Indiana."

The accountant shifted and hugged his files to his chest. "Jason. Do you know how many germs are passed through hands?" He eyed hers and then shifted again. "I must work."

Indiana dropped her hand and watched Jason hurry down the hallway, never making eye contact with anyone. She turned to look at Nero. "Is he always like that?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Nero replied with a shrug. "But he does what he's told and he's good with numbers."

The door opened once again and the last of the accountants stepped out. He stood just marginally taller than Indiana and had an air of superiority about him. Indiana thought that the dark blue suit that he wore would be moderately priced and easy to acquire. He had a face of sharp angles that gave him an aristocratic look and dazzling grey-blue eyes. He flashed her a smile and extended his hand to her. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Travis Irving."

"Indiana," she replied taking his hand to shake it. She noticed a bulky ring on his finger and smiled. Most of the men in her life wore something like it and she found it oddly comforting. "Class ring?" she questioned, not able to get a good look at it.

"Family," Travis replied. He held up his folder. "I should get to work before my boss sees me talking to this pretty lady."

She smiled and nodded. "It was nice to meet you Travis."

"Likewise, Indiana."

She waited until he was out of earshot before she turned to Nero. "And you think one of those guys…" she trailed off looking around for anyone else who might be listening.

Nero used his keycard to gain entry back into his office and motioned for Indiana to follow. The door shut behind them. "I can't see any of them taking the money, that's the problem. Mason is looking at retirement. Jason is too neurotic about things being in their proper place to steal something. Travis is a hard worker with dozens of recommendations who gave him glowing reviews and he's proven himself to me since he's been here. I keep all three of them so well paid I can't understand any of them risking it. Whoever is doing this has to have a motivation."

"The kind of money that has been taken would be considered by most to be incredibly motivating," Indiana argued.

"But if you already snowed two powerful groups for that kind of money, wouldn't you leave the country and be sipping expensive drinks on the beach by now?"

Indiana's lips pressed into a thin line as she puzzled it over. In the paperwork she'd received from Jax had come with bank statements from all three of Nero's accountants. She knew from those that none of those three men had made any substantial deposits. That didn't guarantee that they didn't have other accounts, or put the money into the account of someone they trusted. Staying though, that didn't make sense. If they had a large sum of money, staying would eventually lead to either bankruptcy of the company or getting caught. At this point, why risk it?

"I don't know," Indiana admitted. "But I'm going to find that money."

Nero nodded. "I assume you're headed to your office?"

"I need to work," she insisted. Nero stared at her and she felt vulnerable. "Please, I know you think sending me home to rest is what is best, but what I need is to get back into this."

He stared for a second longer, assessing the situation before he nodded. "I'd like to argue, but I'm not in a place to do so. I'm already using my own money to keep this business afloat. Whoever is doing this is draining money faster than the girls bring it in. I can keep Diosa running for a while, but…" he trailed off.

Indiana nodded in understanding. "I'm going to get this sorted."

Nero nodded. "I sure hope so."

::

Indiana desperately tried to focus on the numbers but her office now held the memory of Happy kissing her senseless. Thinking about the kiss made her stomach feel knotted. She'd kissed him back, but she shouldn't have, she was Mac's Old Lady. She had ended up in the middle of something that could hurt both men. If any of the Sons found out what Happy had done, it wouldn't go over well, no matter how respected he was within the club.

She dropped her pen and ran both hands over her hair. She pulled out the elastic and let her hair fall down. While thinking about what would happen to Happy she nearly forgot what could happen to her if the club found out. She would be shunned by other club members and it wouldn't matter whose daughter she was. She found herself on the verge of tears. Her family was the club.

She wouldn't leave Mac. She loved him and needed the stability he provided. She sure as hell wouldn't go to Happy and expect any form of permanence. He never got past seeing her as Quinn's kid, never would. What happened within the confines of the office had been a mistake, just like what happened in the dorm room at Sanctuary.

Severing ties completely with Happy would be impossible since Mac had patched Redwood but she could avoid him like the plague. She didn't even think it would be hard. He'd made quite the statement by parading Desiree through the Charming clubhouse. He probably didn't ever give the kiss a second thought, she'd been easy and there and breathing and that seemed to be enough for Happy. Between sweet-butts and the escorts she was sure he could find someone else to keep him entertained.

She promised herself she could shove down the past with Happy and forget about it. She'd be a good Old Lady to Mac and all of their places within the club would be preserved.

Sitting back in her chair she found that her resolve didn't make her feel any better. It didn't feel like the end of something. She'd felt for most of her life as though she had gotten stuck in a place between who she was and who she was expected to be. She looked back down at the numbers, and pulled her chair in a bit. She let the comfort of the equations take over and managed to put her thoughts and feelings on the back burner.


	20. Good Company

Her head throbbed, the lights in the parking lot caused her to wince and keep her head tucked down. Indiana had to admit that working all through the day after having her head smashed against the floor did not qualify as one of her more brilliant ideas. With an impending migraine and the strong desire to sleep for a week, she made her way back to her car only to remember the trouble it had given her in the morning.

"Please," she begged her car as she ran her hand along the hood. "Don't fuck with me tonight." She opened the door tossed in her handbag and plopped down on the seat. She shut her eyes and rested her head against the seat for just a moment. She could hear cars racing by on the highway. People were talking nearby, one voice male and the other female. The wind rustled the leave and she felt like crying.

She shoved her keys in and turned it. The car made a pitiful attempt at starting before she released the key and it silenced. "Look Car. I get it, you're in a rough place right now," she muttered, fully realizing how fucking nuts she had to sound. "I am too, okay. I just want to get home, and tomorrow I'll take care of you, but tonight just hold up your end of the bargain okay? Just get me home." She turned the key, the car made a pitched noise that had her releasing the key and covering her ears. The pain in her head made her feel sick to her stomach. "I swear, I'm going to let Dad take you to the junk yard and make you into a goddamn cube of scrap!"

"Your car isn't running."

Indiana nearly jumped out of her skin. She opened her eyes and sighed. "Jason. Hi." Her mind functioned a little slow with the headache and she rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Yeah, car is being a shit."

Jason shifted slightly and muttered to himself for a second. "Where do you live?"

She looked up at him and then looked around but whoever had been talking was gone. After everything that had transpired with Joshua Manning, she didn't have any intention of putting herself into a potentially dangerous situation. She knew better than to just give out her address or take a ride from a stranger. The impending migraine did make a good case for such recklessness but she could hear her father in the back of her head and that kept her focussed.

"On the south side," she said vaguely. "Or east, maybe, I've never been very good with directions." She lived on the north side of Charming and she damn well knew it. "I appreciate your concern, Jason, but I'm okay. A friend is already coming to give me a lift."

He nodded and she hid a grin when he appeared relieved. "Okay." He turned and walked the short distance to his own car and then he was gone.

Part of her wished she'd gone with him. She didn't feel in danger around him but knew better than to judge a book by its cover. She reached into her handbag and pulled out her phone. It wouldn't be out of the question to call Teller Morrow for a tow.

::

Ally adjusted the big brown paper bag of groceries on her hip as she fumbled with the keys to her house. Her day had been busy, following her visit to Jax and Tara she'd continued making inquiries about Lee Toric. She hadn't gotten anything she didn't already know. The man had pull and a few people she'd talked to had become unresponsive at the mention of him. That spoke of the kind of power that made people afraid. She'd picked up some groceries on the foolish impulse to make dinner that she already regretted. She put her keys on the ledge then closed and locked the door and walked into her dirty kitchen.

She blew out a breath. "Well, it has to be done sometime," she muttered to herself. She first went through her fridge and got rid of anything that had expired before she restocked it. She cursed herself for letting the pile of dishes get so high before she started to tackle the mess. She had suds up to her elbows and was halfway done when the doorbell chimed.

Ally felt partially annoyed by having company, she enjoyed her alone time. At the same time, she felt a little grateful for a reason to stop washing dishes. She quickly rinsed the suds off and dried her hands.

As she walked down the hall, her mind continued working. She knew a judge that might have information on Toric. A long shot, sure but she could squeeze in lunch and at least Judge Diane Loretto was good company. While thinking about calling Diane's office she opened the door and found herself face to face with Lee Toric. She backed up instinctively as he stepped toward her and she immediately became irate with her own response. Now he stood in her home, violating her space. When he shut the door behind himself it made her feel trapped and vulnerable in her own home.

Angry at the feelings of weakness he brought up in her she went on the offensive with a mask of bravado. "You can't be here!" She yelled at him. "Get out!"

He stood over her appearing calm and unfazed. "You need to stop looking into me," he ordered calmly but she couldn't deny the order in his voice. "Or I will make your life a living hell."

Threatened in her own home, Ally became absolutely livid. "You think you can just order me around? You can go straight to hell!" She thought about threatening to call the cops but knew that wouldn't go over well with a man like him. "Get out of my house!" She gave him a two handed shove but he caught her wrists when she made contact.

He pulled her in, only to turn and shove her into the wall, pinning her wrists there. Fear turned her entire body cold but her eyes glared up at him defiantly.

"You're a very smart woman, Miss Lowen. It would be such a shame if something were to happen to you." She wished that she had some space, maybe then she could hide the fact that the words had her physically shaking. He smiled down upon her. "I wouldn't enjoy hurting you but if you insist on standing in my way, I will do what needs to be done. Do you understand?"

She nodded meekly, not wanting to show any of her anger to him. He could finish her off right now and until someone needed her for something no one would be any the wiser.

He smiled and took a step back. "I hope we don't have to meet again, Miss Lowen. Have a nice evening," he said before he shut the door behind himself.

She stared at the door until she heard a vehicle start up, another minute passed before her knees buckled and she slid down the wall. She wouldn't allow her fear to get the best of her, and if Toric thought she'd become some submissive 'yes' woman after one little threat he had another thing coming. She forced herself to her feet, her hand stayed on the wall for stability as she made her way back to the kitchen. She dumped her purse and found her phone.

She had a list of people she needed to immediately contact. Diane could wait, but now more than ever Ally wanted to see if her friend knew anything. Jax would need to be informed that Toric had gone and actively threatened her. If Toric would blatantly threaten her for simply looking into him, then she worried greatly over what he would do to Tara. Besides if she was going to keep digging into Toric for the club, she was damn well going to get paid from now on. With her phone in her hand, she scrolled through her contacts. For right now, there was one person she needed to hear from.

With the phone to her ear, she waited as it rang. She let out a breath when she heard the line connect.

_"Hello, Ally. What do I owe the pleasure?"_

"Tom, could you come over?" She pushed her hand through her hair. As much as she wanted to be able to talk, she also wanted the physical presence and the feeling of safety another person would bring. "I'm working on something for a mutual client of ours."

_"Yeah, sure. I can be there within the hour."_

"Thanks, Tom."

She hung up and rubbed her temples. Tom Rosen had gotten her involved with the Sons of Anarchy, if anyone could provide advice it was him.

::

The beige and brown tow truck pulled up and Indiana felt impending panic. If either Mac of Happy were inside, she might just have been better off with Jason. Instead two bickering guys jumped out but the relief was short-lived given how loud they were.

"-To a fucking Doberman!" A door slamming on the driver's side punctuated the words.

"Would you cool it? Try and act professional?" Juice argued back while jumping out of the passenger's side. "Hey," he nodded his head in her direction.

"You wouldn't be cool if you had teeth marks scaring your ass!" Tig argued as he rounded the hood of the truck. She hadn't held a conversation with either man but knew them well enough from their time spent working security at Diosa. Frankly, knowing there were scars on Tig's ass was too much information.

Juice grimaced. "Long story," he muttered apologetically to Indiana. "You called for a tow, right?"

"Yeah, that was me," Indiana stood and shut the door as quietly as possible. "I was hoping I could get a ride too."

"Yeah, sure," Juice agreed with a nod.

It didn't take the two long to hook the car up and she got squished between the two men in the cab of the truck. She rubbed her temples. Juice reached past her to turn off the radio.

"Hey, I was listening to that," Tig barked.

Indiana winced and Juice flipped him off. "She's got a headache, man."

Tig took his eyes off the road for a second to look at her and a brief look of sympathy crossed his face before he returned his gaze to the road. She shot Juice an appreciative smile and he returned with a nod.

She quietly directed Tig to the little home she was staying in. "How long do you think it will take to fix my car?" Indiana asked as Tig pulled the truck to the side of the road.

"Can't say until we take a look at it," Tig replied with a small shrug. "Could be a day or so if we got the parts. If we have to order anything it could take a week or more."

Indiana rubbed her temples. "Any idea how much it will cost?"

"Again, not until we know what's wrong with it," Tig answered. "Besides, it'll be on the house for all the shit you're doing for the club."

Her fair eyebrows shot up in surprise, but she wouldn't argue. "Alright, thanks."

Juice got out and extended his hand. She took it, out of ingrained politeness rather than needing any assistance. She had the kind of height that made the step out of the cab not much of a drop at all. "Thanks, Juice."

"No problem," he replied with a good natured grin. "Gemma will likely be the one to call you when we figure anything out about your car."

She nodded, she'd heard the name around Diosa. She was pretty sure Gemma was Jax's mom, and Nero's girlfriend. "Alright, well, thanks guys," she gave them a wave over her shoulder as she walked toward the little home with the intention of taking a few painkillers and going to bed.

::

The door down the hall slammed before Lyla could even make it to the front door. She blew out a breath and ushered Kenny and Piper into the house. Primo had chosen to stay outside for a while, and she honestly couldn't blame him from wanting to stay out of the madhouse.

"I'm making pizza tonight," Lyla announced. "Is that okay with you boys?"

"Yeah!" Kenny cheered. Piper nodded.

Lyla looked down the hall and sighed. "I'm going to put the pizza in the oven, and then I have to have a little chat with Ellie. Can you two behave yourselves for the next little while?"

"Is Ellie in trouble?" Kenny asked, his gaze going down the hall to where his sister had slammed the door behind herself.

"Yes," Lyla answered, pushing some of her long blonde hair out of her face. "Ellie misbehaved and broke a couple of school rules today."

"I can talk to her," Kenny said looking up at Lyla with a serious expression upon his face.

She smiled down upon the child who reminded her so much of Opie that sometimes it really hurt. "I'll talk to her first Kenny, but maybe she'd like a sympathetic ear afterwards."

Kenny wasn't sure what 'sympathetic' meant but he nodded anyways. He turned to the little blond boy nodded his head. "Come on, Piper. Let's play." Piper tailed after Kenny silently and Lyla let out a sigh of relief. At least she didn't have to worry about the boys.

Lyla took out two frozen pizzas and put them in the oven. She felt apprehensive about talking to Ellie, but knew it needed to be done. She walked to the end of the hall, knocked twice but didn't hear a response. She opened the door anyway and found Ellie sitting with her legs crossed on the bed with headphones on.

Ellie's eyes met Lyla's and she rolled her eye while she pulled off her headphones. "What do you want?"

"We need to talk," Lyla replied as she shut the door. Walking over to the bed, she noticed that the room was completely clean. Dirty laundry in the hamper. Pens all in a jar on the desk by the window. She sat down on the nicely made bed. A picture of Opie and Donna sat on the bedside table and it felt like a knife to the heart. She turned her eyes on Ellie. "I'm glad you keep your room clean."

Appearing confused, Ellie tilted her head slightly. "You came here to tell me I keep my room clean?"

Lyla shook her head. "No, but I'm glad that you do." She could understand it too. Why when everything else was beyond the teenager's control, this space was hers, and she needed it to be organized. Lyla figured it brought Ellie some sense of stability and security. "We need to talk about what happened at school today."

Ellie huffed out a breath. "Look, let's just skip to the part where I promise not to do it again, okay?"

"No, it's not okay," Lyla remained firm. "You brought extra clothes to school. You can't go around dressed in a skirt that hardly covers your ass or a shirt that shows half of your breasts. Jesus, Ellie you need to have some self-respect!"

Ellie's head tipped back as she laughed heartily. The teenager calmed down but a smirk remained on her face, but her eyes held no humour when she looked at Lyla. " _You_ of all people are going to say that to me with a straight face? Do you really think I didn't hear from boys at school what you used to do? Do you think I don't know what Cara Cara was?"

Taking a deep breath, Lyla fought to remain in control of the conversation. "Do you think that this was my goal in life, Ellie? Do you think that I wanted this life for myself? I didn't. I had plans. I had dreams," Lyla's voice remained low and she felt a little surprised by the way Ellie's eyes widened. The teenager remained quiet and actually listened to her. "Reality is a hard thing to live with. You know this better than most people your age, hell, you know it better than some twice your age. I want more for you, Ellie. I work my ass off to keep a roof over our heads and dinner on our plates. This isn't the life I had in mind, but it's the one I have."

Ellie remained silent for a moment, her eyes locked onto Lyla. "Do you regret it?"

"Cara Cara? No. I don't," Lyla replied honestly. "Luanne saved me from potentially ending up in a much worse situation. It all worked out for the best for me."

"No, I'm not asking about Cara Cara," Ellie replied quietly, her eyes averted to the bedspread. "Lyla, do you regret marrying my dad? If you hadn't, you wouldn't be stuck with me and Kenny. Your life would be-"

"Empty," Lyla interrupted. Ellie's head shot up at the answer. "My life would be empty."

Ellie shook her head. "It would be easier. You would have more money for you and Piper."

Lyla moved close enough to wrap her arms around the girl, and surprisingly, Ellie let her. "Ellie, this is where my life led me. I loved your father dearly. I do not regret marrying him. I don't regret signing those guardianship papers and taking you and Kenny in. I love you both so much. You're my family now, Ellie. I love you."

She felt the warm tears on her neck before the sob shook the teenage girl's body. Ellie's arms wrapped around Lyla's waist and held her tight. Lyla winced, her back still bruised from when Vann attacked her.

"I miss them so much," Ellie whispered as she pulled back and rubbed tears from her eyes.

"I know you do," Lyla responded gently. "And I know this is all very hard on you and Kenny, but we have to work together. I can't be getting called into the principal's office when you're dressing inappropriately. And if your behaviours keep up they're going to call Child Services."

Ellie sat up a little straighter. "Would they take me away?" Her voice suddenly small and it reminded Lyla of just how young the girl was. Thirteen was hardly old enough to deal with the kinds of things she'd been through.

"If they think I'm being a bad mother they will. If you keep acting up, that's what they're going to think, that I can't handle this."

The teenage girl nodded and remained quiet for a moment. "All my friends did it. Got dressed up. We just," Ellie shrugged and seemed a bit embarrassed. "I guess we just wanted attention."

"Get attention for the right things," Lyla advised. "And wait a few years! You're going to give me grey hairs! Boys in their teenage years suck anyways, trust me. Wait until you're at least eighteen to even think about dating and wait for a good guy. If you need an example, wait for someone strong and kind and who will treat you like a queen."

Ellie grinned a little as she thought of the happy days with her parents, the vague memories before her father went to prison. She could remember music and her mother dancing around in the kitchen trying to tease her father into joining in, and because he loved her, he always would. "Like Dad?"

Lyla smiled as she remembered Opie fondly. "Yeah, like your dad."

The door suddenly opened and Piper stood there biting his bottom lip.

"What is it?" Lyla asked her son. He walked over and looked nervously at Ellie before muttering something softly. "I can't hear you, Piper."

"Smells like burning," he muttered again.

"Crap!"

Ellie laughed as Lyla shot out of the room. She looked down at Piper who froze on the spot. She felt a pang of guilt over how she'd treated the young boy since coming to live with Lyla. "Come on kid," she said sliding off the bed. "Let's go see if dinner is as burnt as it smells." Like she had watched Lyla do many times before, she ran her hand over Piper's fine hair and wished her hair felt so silky. He gave her a shy little smile and followed her from the room.

::

The pizza was burnt but edible. After the kids had eaten they went off to watch a movie, Lyla called Primo inside, directed him to the table and gave him a couple slices of salvaged pizza. "Sorry it's burnt," she apologized as she leaned her hip against the table.

Primo shrugged and washed the bite down with a swig of cola. "It isn't terrible."

She laughed. "'Not terrible' isn't a compliment."

He grinned a little as he looked up at her. "It's the best I can do here."

"Yeah, it is pretty bad," Lyla had to agree.

A barrage of gunfire caused glass to shatter and wood to splinter. Screams filled the house.

Lyla's heart immediately went into overdrive and her maternal instinct kicked in. She ran from the kitchen toward the living room. The sound of gunfire seemed deafening. Ellie stood in horror, the two boys were sitting on the floor. Lyla grabbed Ellie by the arm and dragged her down to the ground and put her arms around the three children, putting her body between them and where the gunfire seemed to come from.

As quick as it had begun, it ended. Tires squealed and then silence blanketed the home once again. Suddenly, Piper cried out and tears ran down his face. Lyla released the children and checked him over quickly for injury, but found he was just traumatised by the events, not actually harmed. "Are you both okay?" she asked looking to Kenny and then Ellie.

Kenny seemed to be in shock, but he slowly nodded. Ellie swallowed hard. "Yeah, yeah, I'm okay," she answered.

Lyla turned around to watch Primo walk back into the house. She hadn't even known he left. "Got a few shots in," he informed Lyla with blatant disregard for the fact that the children didn't need to hear it. "Car didn't have a plate. Likely stolen. Didn't get a look at who was shooting either." He frowned and tucked his gun back into the back of his jeans. "Everyone okay?" He asked, almost as an afterthought.

Primo stared down at Lyla who nodded and returned her attention to her three charges. She checked them over once more, as if she needed to assure herself that they were all really in one piece. She'd reacted faster than he had, and it bothered him. Before he'd even gotten out of his seat, she'd gotten out of the room. It hadn't escaped him that she'd put herself directly into harm's way, putting herself between the bombardment of bullets and the children. His job was to protect her, and he felt as though he'd failed tonight.

"We're all okay," Lyla said finally. She pulled her son against her and whispered to him. The blond boy sobbed and clung to his mother.

Primo stared at Lyla for a moment before turning to look at the bullet holes left in the door. He followed the lines and looked at the wall past the children and Lyla. It had been close. Too close. "This was Kane," he said, more to himself than to anyone else. "It had to be."

"Not now," Lyla hissed at him. Her cerulean eyes glared at him accusingly and then she made a motion with her hand. It took Primo a moment to realize she was gesturing to the three children. He put his hands up in surrender and dropped the topic.

Ellie moved suddenly out of her stupor and hugged her brother tightly. She looked worriedly over at Lyla and Piper before she turned her attention back to her little brother. "It's going to be okay," she whispered to him.

"I know," Kenny replied evenly, as though he hadn't just nearly been shot. Primo had to respect the kid who showed stones like that already. Kenny looked to the wall behind them, at the bullets that littered the wall. "I think Mom and Dad were watching out for us."

The room became very quiet and the little makeshift family all looked at the wall. Primo didn't hold much stock in the supernatural but call it whatever, they'd all been insanely lucky. He walked back toward the kitchen leaving the unit alone for a moment. The dining table had shards of glass from the large bay window all over it. The glass also crunched under his boots. He and Lyla could have very well been at least injured, at worst killed. He shook his head and pulled out his phone, quickly dialling.

_"Primo?"_

"Cuz, someone just shot up Lyla's place," he informed Nero. "No injuries." _Miraculously_. Primo blew out an angry breath. "I need some place safe to take them."

_"You alright?"_

"Fine." Primo replied. Upon hearing movement he walked toward the kitchen entrance where he had a sightline to the living room. Lyla was back on her feet, her son practically attached to her leg. The other two seemed equally shaken. "Pissed," he tacked on when he realized just how angry the attack had made him.

Children should never become collateral, and all three of them could have been. Primo gripped the doorframe and tried to keep a leash on his seething anger.

_"I'll figure something out and get back to you in ten."_

Primo hung up his phone and turned to see Lyla with Piper in her arms. "Should I call the police?" she asked him.

Even considering her less than stellar neighbourhood, surely someone would be reporting the gunfire. "You better, it was a random attack," he said pointedly, his eyes narrowing at her trying not to further upset her by talking about in depth around the children.

"Ignorance is bliss," she whispered. She knew how to get through police questioning and understood that he didn't want to admit that she knew damn well who was behind the shooting. Her eyes skimmed over him and her hand touched his chest. "I'm glad you're okay," she said before she turned in search of a phone.

He stared after her and wondered what the hell it was about that particularly beautiful train-wreck of a woman that kept his attention.

::

The knock on the door made her jump. Annoyed by her own response, Ally went to the door and peeked through the blinds. She let out a breath of relief before she opened the door. "Tom." She felt a flush of embarrassment when his name came out more like a sigh of relief.

He gave her an inquiring look as he stepped in and shut the door behind himself. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," she answered quickly out of habit. She groaned and shook her head. "No. No it isn't."

Her hand raised to touch the chunk of quartz at the center of her necklace, fiddling with such charms had been a nervous habit she thought she'd broken herself of. Her fingertips barely skimmed it before Rosen lightly grabbed her hand and pulled it closer for inspection. He stared curiously at her wrist and she followed his gaze to find that Toric had left little bruises that just slightly darkened her skin.

His thumb lightly ran over one of the bruises and she found herself holding her breath. "Jesus," he muttered. He shook his head and released her. His hand went to her lower back and he led her back to her kitchen, having been there enough times to be comfortable with the layout. "Who the hell have the Sons pissed off now?" He asked as he opened the door to her freezer and pulled out a bottle of vodka and started to search her fridge for olives.

"Lee Toric," Ally responded, sounding miserable even to her own ears. "Have you-"

"Yes, I've heard of him," Rosen replied, having cut her off. "He's bad news. He was the law and now he thinks he's above it. I still do read all the reports you give me, you know," he reminded condescendingly. "I still am one of the Sons lawyers."

"Yeah," she agreed with her eyes narrowed at his arrogant tone. "And you've been doubling your work by helping out the Lin Triad."

Rosen shrugged as he started to prepare dirty martinis. "Henry is a good client."

"Working both angles is going to get you in trouble one day," Ally argued while she leaned her hip against the counter.

He shook the cocktail shaker. "Both Jax and Henry know I work for both. They're on good terms with one another."

"Until they're not," Ally persisted walking past him to retrieve two martini glasses.

"Let me worry about it," he said, effectively shutting down that conversation. She put the glasses on the counter and put a couple of olives in them. He poured the drink over top and set the shaker aside. "So, back to Lee Toric." His eyes skimmed down to her wrists and he pointed. "Is he the one who gave you those?"

Ally took a sip of her martini, wishing the liquid courage worked a little faster. "Yes. He came here today. He told me to stop looking into him."

Rosen didn't like the fact that the man had come to her home. "Did he threaten you?" Rosen asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at her. Frankly, he thought of the man coming to Ally's home as threat enough.

She thought about denying it because Rosen would want to take it to court. They were lawyers, they battled with words, intelligence, and evidence. Guns and fists just weren't their style. She'd have to tell Jax, and then the Sons would know, and eventually it would get to Rosen who wouldn't appreciate the lie. "Yes," she mumbled before taking another sip of the martini.

"We need to get you a restraining order," Rosen said, mostly to himself before taking the first sip of his martini.

"No," Ally shook her head. "He has too many connections. Besides, it will put me in a conflict of interest in the event that he goes against any of the Sons in court."

"Then I'll take care of it," his eyes trailed to the bottle of Vodka. Upon the realization that it would be a long night he added a bit more alcohol to his drink. "Ally, there is no excuse for allowing yourself to be put in danger!"

"I can handle it," Ally argued as she walked toward the living room, forcing Rosen to follow.

Rosen ran his hand over his face and prayed for patience. Ally had a stubborn streak a mile wide, it made her a great lawyer, but also made it damn near impossible to talk any sense into her. He trailed after her and took a seat on the plush leather chair closest to where she'd curled up in the corner of the sofa. "Ally, you need to think about this logically."

"Don't you think that is what I'm doing?" She blew out an annoyed breath before she took a gulp of the martini. "Even if I got a restraining order, and that is a big if, he could walk right through it." She turned her eyes on him and found that she'd relaxed since his arrival. He'd always done that, right from when they met. He brought her confidence, and oddly tonight even after all that had transpired it also came with a sense of peace. "We don't play in the little league, Tom. We play with the big kids, and they have bigger and more powerful enemies."

Realizing that talking sense into her wasn't going to happen, Rosen sat back in the seat and took a moment to enjoy the martini. "Have you informed Jackson?"

"Not yet. Figured I'd wait until morning," she replied as she fussed with the hem of her black pencil skirt.

They drank the rest of their martinis in comfortable silence. Ally stared into the glass at the olives at the bottom. Rosen watched her closely. He knew her long enough to see the cracks in her tough 'I've-got-this-handled' mask. He didn't like the sad look in her eyes. More, he wasn't fond of the worry her look instilled in him. "Request protection," Rosen advised.

Ally's head lifted and she stared at him. "Yeah, yeah," she replied. While she prided herself in her ability to fend for herself, she wasn't stupid. She plucked out one of the olives and tossed it in her mouth. "I will."

Rosen gave a nod. "I'll stay until then."

Ally nearly choked on the olive. "No," stared at him, alarmed. "Thanks, but I'm fine, there is no need. He won't be coming back tonight in any case." Rosen just watched her. Despite how stubborn she could be, he could play the game just as well. Her lips pressed tightly together. "You're not leaving no matter what I say, are you?" she muttered, her eyes narrowed at him.

He gave her a small smile. "Not a chance."


	21. Lay Low

Primo stood at the side of the window and stared out into the darkness. The isolated cabin made for an easily defensible place to lay low for a while. The sound of gunfire and shattering glass haunted him. The fact that he, Lyla and the three children had come out completely unscathed shocked him.

 

Remembering Lyla kneeling on the ground with her arms around the three children huddling them together, trying to shield them with her own body angered him. He had been placed there in order to protect her. Lot of good that did. He mentally berated himself. He should have stayed outside, he might have heard the approaching car, might have got off a few more accurate shots- although, he likely would have been a pretty easy target and might not have gotten off so damn lucky.

 

The floorboards in the cabin creaked, so he heard Lyla’s slow approach and turned to look at her. She appeared absolutely exhausted. She’d changed into a light green nightgown, there were no embellishments and it didn’t hug her quite the way her work dresses did, but it remained flattering. Her hair had been pulled up into a messy bun, a few strands stuck out at odd angles and a few had escaped the confines completely and twisted down her back.

 

“Did you get them to sleep?” he asked.

 

“Yeah,” she replied softly as she leaned against the doorframe, her head resting there as well. “Took a while, but exhaustion finally got them.” She stepped closer, into the small kitchen space.

 

“This place only has one bedroom,” Primo griped. “Nero should have found something more suitable for a family of four.”

 

Lyla shook her head. “This is fine. The cabin has been in the Winston family for generations.” She ran her hands over some dark green drapes, they were masculine and not at all to her taste but it reminded her of Piney and of Opie and the thought of them brought her a measure of comfort. “The kids feel safe here, especially Kenny and Ellie.”

 

“The fact that it’s been in the Winston family is part of the problem,” Primo argued. “If Kane finds out he could send Vann or one of his other guys to make a point.”

 

“They’ve already made a point tonight,” Lyla spat back, her anger over the situation getting the best of her. “I’ve heard the threat loud and fucking clear!”

 

“Quiet down,” Primo growled at her while he moved closer. “Don’t wake the kids back up.”

 

Lyla turned away from him and stalked off to the living room. She heard his boots against the floor and she whirled around and poked him in the chest. “Take off your shoes!”

 

He threw his hands up in surrender, but he couldn’t mask the fury on his face. His job was to protect her, but she tried his patience and after everything else that had happened his fuse was short. He walked back to the front door and ditched his shoes before walking back to the living room to find her curled up in a wide, overstuffed, ugly plaid chair that faced the little wood stove. She looked small and weak and in dire need of protecting.

 

He cursed under his breath and took a seat on the couch. “Between my crew and the Sons we will take care of this.”

 

She stared at the unlit fireplace with a blank expression. “Have you ever hear of Luanne Delaney?”

 

Queen of porn, yeah, he’d heard of her. “No.”

 

“I used to work for her at Cara Cara, a porn studio,” Lyla informed him, her voice soft and haunted. “Georgie Caruso was a rival. He killed this dog we had for protection. When that didn’t work-“ her voice trailed off and she pulled the hem of her nightgown down a bit more. “Her body was found in some ditch. She had been beaten to death.” Silence fell between them. Primo knew she was searching for some kind of comfort but that wasn’t his strong suit. “What is going to happen to the kids if something happens to me?” she finally managed to voice her concern, her terrified blue eyes turned to him and he tensed.

 

It made him profoundly angry to see her this afraid. He’d failed to protect her once and he wouldn’t let it happen again. “Nothing is going to happen to you,” he declared, leaning forward slightly. “I will protect you.”

 

A sculpted blonde eyebrow raised. “No offense, but you’re not Superman. You’re not faster than a speeding bullet and you can’t deflect them either. You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

 

He hated such unflinching honesty from her because not only did she blatantly point out that he couldn’t protect her but she also indicated that he couldn’t even comfort her with the lie. “I will do everything I can to keep you and those kids safe.”

 

She smiled, but it was touched with sadness. “I know you will.” She still wondered what would happen to the kids if Oliver Kane had her killed. Of course, dead wouldn’t get him his money but it would prove just how serious Kane was about getting his money. She thought about the three sleeping children.  Mary might take in Ellie and Kenny but what would happen to Piper?

 

“If anything happens to you,” Primo whispered. “I’ll make sure the kids are taken care of.”

 

She let out a breath and closed her eyes. She didn’t believe he would ever keep the kids with him, but did have faith that he would ensure they ended up in good homes. “Thank you.”

 

“You should take the couch.”

 

“I’m fine here,” Lyla replied as her eyes closed. “You’re taller anyway.”

 

“Lyl-“

 

“Shh,” she hushed him. “I’m sleeping.”

 

His eyes narrowed. “No you’re not.”

 

“I would be if you’d stop talking.”

 

He could see her little smile despite the fact she obviously tried to hold it back. He fought the desire to get the last word in and watched as the smile slowly slipped off her face and her body drained of tension. She looked peaceful, all curled up in a little ball, her long blonde hair creating a halo around her face. He picked up a ratty old throw from the corner of the couch and unfolded it before draping it over her small frame. Instead of going to sleep himself, he took another tour around the house to ensure security.

 

::

 

Trinity rubbed her eyes and yawned. She still had another three hours till the end of her shift but the darkness along with the lullaby of the rain hitting the windows was enough to make her want to curl up and sleep the rest of the night away. It didn’t help that any real work had been finished up hours ago.

 

“Oh! Hot damn!” Cherry shouted from where she dusted shelves and products. “When did we get these in?”

 

Out of a mix of curiosity and boredom both Trinity and Kerrianne followed the voice to the far wall. Trinity rounded the corner first and tilted her head slightly, trying to get a better view of the box Cherry held. Kerrianne snorted when she spotted the box. “Stocked them last week. Figured you would have found them by now.”

 

“What are they?” Trinity inquired as she stepped closer.

 

“Ribbed _and_ studded condoms!” Cherry replied with obvious excitement. Trinity’s face burned hot and Cherry laughed while throwing her arm around the younger girl’s shoulders. “I’m telling you, these are fantastic!” Trinity wiggled out of Cherry’s grasp. Cherry laughed and pushed a hand through her short red locks. “You’ll thank me one day.”

 

“What is wrong with you?” Trinity asked, hands on her hips. “Is sex all you think about?”

 

“No, but this job is so fucking boring that it slips in every now and then.”

 

“Thinking about getting back into ‘the life?’” Kerrianne asked appearing nonchalant as she turned a few bottles so their labels could be read.

 

“Hell no!” Cherry replied giving her head a stern shake. She’d made plenty of mistakes, figured she’d make plenty more, but she wouldn’t be returning to MC life ever. She’d had enough heartache for one lifetime from it.

 

The bell above the door chimed and Kerrianne leaned to look around the shelf. “Hey Mo,” she greeted loud enough to give the other girls warning. “What brings you in at this ungodly hour?”

 

Maureen shrugged as she closed her umbrella. “Couldn’t sleep.”

 

“So you came into work?” Cherry shook her head. “If I couldn’t sleep I’d watch a movie, or go to a bar and pick up some guy. Come on Mo, you can do better than returning here. Go get laid!” Maureen shot Cherry a dark look, Trinity groaned while hiding her face with her hands and Kerrianne coughed to cover up laughter. Cherry rolled her eyes. “You’d be way less cranky if you got laid regularly,” she muttered under her breath.

 

“I come in with the intention of letting you girls go home and get a bit of sleep and this is how I’m repaid,” Maureen shook her head, her ponytail swaying. “Get out of here, ladies, before I regret this.”

 

“Thanks Mo!” Kerrianne said hurrying over and giving the woman a hug. She already started to plan her off time. Walking home while talking to Juice and then going directly to bed probably wasn’t most nineteen year olds dream, but it sounded pretty damn nice to her.

 

“Trini, don’t forget to lock up when you get in,” Maureen shouted as the girls hurried into the little back room that served as the office, overstock room, and locker space.

 

“I won’t!” Trinity shouted back. “Christ,” she muttered, grabbing her purse. “It’s like she thinks I’m a child.”

 

“And don’t leave the hall light on!” Maureen yelled. Trinity mimed shooting herself in the head and Cherry snickered. “Trini, did you hear me? I said don’t leav-‘

 

“I heard you!” Trinity shouted. She rubbed her temples. “Lord, give me strength.”

 

Kerrianne and Cherry turned to each other and grinned. Cherry leaned in to Trinity’s ear. “Maybe it’s you who needs to get laid regularly.”

 

Trinity gave Cherry a weak shove and flipped her off while both Cherry and Kerrianne burst into laughter. “Funny, very funny,” Trinity growled. “Laugh it up. You two are riot.”

 

“Ease up,” Kerrianne said pulling her purse onto her shoulder.

 

“Piss off,” Trinity stalked out of the room.  
  
Kerrianne’s eyebrows had shot up and she turned to find a similar look of shock on Cherry’s face. “Well, someone is in a mood,” Kerrianne muttered but felt a tinge of guilt about bugging her best friend.

 

Cherry pulled on her black leather jacket and zipped it up. “Maybe she’s on the rag. She’ll be fine.” Cherry gave a little tug on Kerrianne’s purse. “Is this new? I dig it.”

 

Kerrianne shook her head while looking at the brown studded purse. “Na, it’s just been sitting in one of the boxes from the move. Spotted it this morning.” She walked past the counter that Maureen now stood behind.

 

Trinity had just finished packing a little baggy with candy and popped the first one in her mouth. “See you when you get home, Ma. Who has the next shift anyway?”

 

“Kerri.” Cherry replied before stealing one of Trinity’s candies.

 

“What?” Kerrianne reached over the counter to pull out the clipboard with the schedule. “Ha, do not. You do Cher!”

 

Cherry grinned. “Yeah, I just thought maybe you’d be all sleepy and agree.”

 

Kerrianne shook her head. She’d been about to argue when the door slammed open, the sudden loud noise made her jump. She whirled around and watched three men walk into the store. They had some similar traits: strong builds, dark coloured clothing, and stern expressions. Terror ran through her before she located the reason.  Her eyes drifted to the metallic objects and in shock it took her far too long to realize the reality of what they were. Guns. The three men had guns. They spread out and Kerrianne realized they weren’t alone. She could see at least another two standing guard outside the front door.

 

“Go!” Maureen shouted at the girls as she grabbed the shotgun from under the counter.

 

Cherry took two shocked steps back and Kerrianne grabbed the frozen Trinity by the arm and dragged her toward the back exit. The first shot startled them all but put the young women into action. Cherry grabbed Kerrianne’s jacket and gave a weak pull as she took off in a run toward the backroom. Kerrianne ended up a few steps behind and continued pulling Trinity who shouted out for her mother. Kerrianne kept focussed on following Cherry while she dragged her terrified friend along. They nearly reached the door to the stockroom before a spray of red and Cherry suddenly collapsed at an awkward angle on the floor.

 

Trinity screamed and Kerrianne faltered in her step. Blood came from the center of Cherry’s neck and there was no doubt that her friend laid dead but Kerrianne’s brain froze under the horror of it.

 

A hand grabbed her purse strap and her unbuttoned light green over-shirt. Instinct had her shrugging both off. She grabbed Trinity’s arm once again and shoved her ahead. “Go!” She screamed. She let out a howl as her hair got yanked back. She mule kicked back and connected with someone’s knee. She threw a wild elbow and luckily connected. The man behind her groaned but she didn’t look, she took off sprinting. She flew through the backroom and out into the street where Trinity struggled with a man who had his arms around her waist.

 

Kerrianne looked around in a panic and found a broken bottle. She grabbed it by the neck but once it was in her hand she couldn’t quite figure out what to do with it. Wouldn’t stab very well with it’s short jagged glass, it wouldn’t kill and she felt murderous. Still, if the distraction had the man letting go of Trinity, it would be worth it.

 

Gunfire continued in the store and it prompted Kerrianne into action. She ran up behind the man and jammed the bottle into the man’s lower back, just under the ribs. The scream echoed in the alleyway. His hold on Trinity released as he reached for the bottle. “Run, run!” Kerrianne shouted shoving her friend toward the mouth of the alley.

 

The two young women sprinted out and ran right across the road without pausing to check for traffic. Brakes squealed and they heard the sound of impacting metal on metal. “Keep going!” Kerrianne demanded wiping her brow of the rainwater that soaked them. They knew their city well and took alleyways to avoid the men.

 

They made it to a park before Trinity fell to one knee. “I can’t,” she panted. Her hair blonde hair seemed so much darker now, bits clung to her skin. “I can’t run. I just can’t go any further.” She looked over her shoulder. “My ma,” she whined and held her head. “Oh God, Cherry!” She could vividly recall the blood of her friend staining the shop tiles, the spray a macabre display upon the wall. Her entire body shook violently as sobs hiccupped in her throat.

 

“We can’t think about that now,” Kerrianne said crouching down in front of her friend. She put her hands on Trinity’s shoulders to find them shaking. Grey-blue eyes filled with tears stared up at her and Trinity’s lower lip quivered. “We can’t think about it, we have to go.” Kerrianne tried hard to keep her voice calm and collected. They couldn’t afford both of them breaking down. Mostly, Kerrianne wanted to scream and rage and hit something. Cherry dead. Maureen in a room with those men. She closed her eyes willing her mind to focus on what she could deal with. She and Trinity needed to get off the street, if they didn’t get out of the elements soon they would end up sick on top of it all. They needed help and she didn’t know who they could really trust anymore. “We need to keep moving.”

 

Trinity shook her head, unable to comprehend. She needed to know who was after them. Why were people after them? They lived quiet lives. They ran a fucking convenience store! They’d never done anything to anybody. Her body shook violently and a sob escaped. With McGee dead, she and her mother rarely ever saw anyone from the Belfast SOA charter, surely this wasn’t backlash from something they’d done.  “Who were those men?” Tears fell hot and it was only the temperature difference that allowed her to tell them apart from the heavy rain.

 

“Stop it!” Kerrianne shrieked, on the edge of hysterical herself. Not yet twenty, she’d seen more things than most people her age ever should. Despite her attempts to keep things together, she could feel herself begin to fall apart. It didn’t help to watch her best friend shake and sob and look at her with those horrified eyes. “Keep yourself together! We can’t fall apart here! We have to keep going!”

 

“Go where?” Trinity stared up at her friend with tears in her eyes. “Where do we go? Who were those men?” She quickly wiped her hands over her eyes to clear her vision of tears. She wanted to be brave, like Kerrianne, especially because she knew she had become a hindrance rather than a help and they couldn’t afford that.  “Were they IRA?”

 

Kerrianne cursed and stood. “I have to warn Ma.” She went to reach for her purse out of habit only to remember she’d shrugged it off with her over-shirt to get away.  She rubbed her hands over her bare arms trying to generate some heat. “Do you have your phone?”

 

Trinity shook her head. “I tried to beat the guy with my purse and lost it.”

 

“Fuck!”

 

“There is a payphone at the other side of this park,” Trinity forced herself to stand. She felt chilled to the bone but couldn’t figure out if it was because of what just happened or if it was because of the rain.

 

Kerrianne nodded. She needed to keep her mind on a goal, needed to keep from thinking about the blood and death and fear. She refused to succumb to it. She grabbed her best friend by the hand and together they walked as quickly as they could through the park.

 

::

 

Fiona woke angry as a grizzly bear. She’d been having a lovely dream only to have it disturbed in the wee hours of the morning by her phone. She reached out blindly and hit the talk button just to shut it up. “Yeah?” The gunfire on the other end of the line had Fiona sitting up at a dizzying speed. She pulled the phone away from her ear to look at the ID and it frightened her to see it came from Ashby’s Provisions. She put the phone back to her ear. “Kerri!” her heart sunk and it felt as though ice had replaced blood in her veins.

 

“Mo,” Maureen corrected. “Kerri’s gone. Get out. It’s IRA.”

 

Gunfire ceased and Fiona gripped her phone tighter. She could hear a muffled sound, something low and she identified it as a man’s voice. Apparently Maureen didn’t like what the man said considering her loud and colourful answer of what he could do with himself.

 

“Mo,” Fiona didn’t know what to say to her friend. ‘Get out,’ ‘be safe,’ ‘run,’ nothing applied, nothing felt right. Her throat felt thick and her eyes pricked with tears. Fiona knew they would kill her if she didn’t put down arms.  “Surrender.”

 

“Fuck that.” Her words were followed by a particularly loud blast of gunfire.

  
“Mo!” Fiona shouted. “Surrender! If they haven’t killed you yet, they need you for something,” Fiona insisted, her hand twisted in sheets. “Buy yourself sometime.” Fiona went for the trump card. “Think of Trini.”

 

“The girls are out there,” Maureen sounded in pain. “Our girls, Fi.”

 

“I’ll find them, Mo,” Fiona swore to her friend. “And I’ll find you. Just stay alive.”

 

“Just take care of our girls.”

 

The following deafening blast had Fiona white knuckling her phone. “Mo? Maureen!” She forced herself to remove the phone from her ear to find the call had been disconnected.

 

Fiona’s heart beat a panicked rhythm in her chest and her mouth had gone dry. She moved with a quick and efficient grace. She stripped off her pajamas and left them in a pile on the floor. She grabbed a pair of dark wash track pants and a black athletic shirt and put them on. She grabbed a light t-shirt and pulled it over her head before grabbing a black hoodie, one of her husband’s, and put her arms through. Beyond the practicality of layering up in the cold, the scent of him helped to keep here calm and focussed.

 

She went to the closet and pulled out a pre-packed duffle bag. In her life, she’d found paranoia to be an efficient tool in staying alive. She wore the duffle strap across her body as she hurried down the hall, pausing briefly in her daughter’s doorway. The bed a mess, desk a pile of receipts and movie ticket stubs, her wall displaying framed photographs. They’d been making a life here and it enraged Fiona that her daughter would yet again lose that. She tucked into the kitchen while she pulled out her phone. She couldn’t have Kerrianne returning here. IRA surely knew their address and would be here any minute. She dialled the number while she crouched to take out a pot, and from it a Glock.

 

Kerrianne didn’t answer her phone and Fiona’s frayed nerves nearly snapped. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, inhaling the scent of her Filip. “Oh God, I need you here,” she whispered.

  
In the silence, she heard the heavy footsteps in the hall. She shoved her phone in the duffle-bag and zipped it up. She adjusted her grip on the gun and clicked off the safety. Wood splintered as the door was kicked down. She ran from the kitchen and down the hall. In the doorway she turned and took a couple of shots. The scream told her she’d hit someone but she didn’t stick around to see who or how bad. She lifted the window and dove out onto the rickety metal fire escape.  She turned and took another couple shots into her bedroom before she climbed down the shaky ladder.

 

She could only think of her daughter, scared, in the rain, on the run. What if Kerrianne were injured? Why hadn’t she answered her cellphone? She jumped down, ignoring the last few rungs. She took a cursory glance around the alleyway before she took off into the street.


	22. The Calls

Teller-Morrow felt like a sanctuary to Gemma. The organization of the office relied heavily on her and the familiar work gave her a sense of purpose and of peace. The late afternoon only had Juice working out in the garage on a bright green abomination that called itself a car. She watched him for a moment before she checked her watch. Chucky usually brought in coffee around this time and she was grateful to the oddball for it. The tap on the door had her grinning. Right on time. “It’s open, Chucky.”

 

The door swung open and Chibs walked in. “Sorry to disappoint,” he said while kicking the door shut behind him. “Chucky is experimenting with making smoothies. He saw Juice making one earlier.”

 

She leaned back in the chair and grinned. “And how is that going?”

 

Chibs rested his hip against the desk. “I wouldn’t go into the kitchen any time soon,” he advised with a wicked grin. He handed Gemma one of the two mugs he held.

 

“Thanks.” Gemma took a sip of the strong coffee that had been doctored with a spoon of sugar and sighed. “I ain’t disappointed. You make these a hell of a lot better than the fingerless wonder.”

 

The door slammed open and Chibs slowly turned to face frantic V-Lin. “Extinguisher?” The younger man looked around wildly.

 

“Oh, fucking hell,” Chibs set his cup down on Gemma’s desk so hard that the hot liquid spilt over the edge. He rushed into the garage, which startled Juice who hit his head on the raised hood of Indiana’s car.

 

“Ow, shit!” Juice rubbed his head, half expecting blood. He turned to see both Chibs and V-Lin searching the garage. “Where’s the fire?” Juice jested.

 

“In the clubhouse,” V-Lin replied as he looked behind a large red tool box for the extinguisher. “Chucky did something to the blender and it just fucking went up.”

 

“Jesus Christ!” Juice abandoned the car, pushed past Chibs and ducked under one of the work benches already knowing where the extinguisher had always been located. He pulled it out and thrust it into V-Lin’s awaiting arms. “Go!” The newly patched man took off through the big open garage door. Silence overcame the garage as Juice and Chibs stood side by side watching V-Lin sprint across the lot. Juice looked warily over at Chibs and pointed his thumb in the direction of the clubhouse. “Should we go check that out?”

 

Chibs glanced over at Juice, then to the clubhouse and back again. He huffed out a breath. “I will.” He pointed to the bright green Prius. “How much longer to fix that banger?”

 

Juice wrung his hands and looked back at the car. His relationship with Chibs remained strained at best. Since the night Chibs pummelled him there had been a lull. The Scot was no longer friendly toward him nor did he look ready to punch his lights out at any given moment. Juice wanted to earn that friendship and respect back but had no idea on how to go about it. Chibs raised an eyebrow and Juice remembered he’d been asked a question. “I had to order a couple of parts, it’ll take a day or two before they get here,” he answered. “Once the new parts are in it’ll hold for a while, but the transmission in it is going. Likely cheaper to get a new car than to dish out for the parts and shipping.”

 

“Aye,” Chibs replied He clasped a hand on Juice’s shoulder briefly before he stalked off to the office.

 

Chibs closed the door to the garage and offered Gemma a small smile. “Should I call the fire department?” She asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

 

Chibs walked to the window and peered out the blinds. “I don’t see anyone running from the building screaming.” Gemma laughed and shook her head. Chibs retrieved his coffee and nodded his head toward the garage. “Call the owner. Tell ‘em we had to order parts. It’s looking like the end of the week before it’s done.”

  
“I will. Juice told me it’s Quinn’s kid’s car.” Gemma didn’t know what to think of the woman she’d never met. Rane Quinn having a kid came as a shock to this charter of the MC. She’d met the Nomad President on various club related occasions but never once had he said one thing about having a family, she had even asked and he’d brushed it off. Protective of family, keeping them private, she could respect that. The kid was now a fully grown woman though, and doing something for the club and that made Gemma want to know more. Especially since Indiana worked at Diosa. “I haven’t gotten a look at her but Nero tells me she’s doing the job.”

 

Chibs shrugged as he thought back to when he’d sat with Indiana at the bar. “She’s steady,” he decided with a building sense of unease as he stared through the venetian blinds at the clubhouse. “I should make sure they contained the fire.”

 

His lips pressed a friendly kiss to her temple and Gemma watched him stalk off and shut the door behind. Now alone, she returned to her coffee and paperwork. Her hand gripped the phone and she dialled the number on the sheet for the Prius.

 

_“Hello?”_

 

She leaned back in her chair and adjusted her grip on the phone. “This is Gemma from Teller-Morrow. Is this Indiana Quinn?”

 

_“Yes it is. Is my car done?”_

 

She sounded young, professional and polite over the phone. Somehow, that didn’t fit with her mental image of Rane Quinn’s daughter. “We had to order some parts in. It’s looking like the end of the week.”

 

_“Okay, thanks for letting me know. Have a nice day-”_

 

“Wait.” Gemma’s curiosity got the best of her. “I know your Dad. What is he up to these days?”

 

 _“Same old, same old,”_ Indiana replied casually.

 

Despite the friendly answer, Gemma knew that the young woman wouldn’t give any straight forward answers about her father, or the MC. She’d been raised in the life, knew the rules. It didn’t stop Gemma from testing the girl. “Where is he living now?”

 

_“Here and there.”_

 

The clipped answer held a little heat. “You know,” Gemma smirked. “He is one fine looking man.”

 

 _“He is my father,”_ the voice over the line growled. _“And I’ll let Nero know you said that.”_

  
“So,” Gemma mused. “The kitten does have claws.”

 

_“Call me when my car is finished. Have a nice day, Mrs Teller-Morrow.”_

 

The line disconnected before Gemma could say anything in return. She held the phone in her hand for a moment as she considered how snide the woman sounded while saying her two surnames. “Insolent bitch,” she muttered while hanging up.

 

::

 

The clubhouse felt alive. The fire had eaten at the countertop and scarred the side of the refrigerator but on the whole the kitchen hadn’t taken too much damage. The scent of smoke and burnt plastic mixed with alcohol, sweat and perfume. The energy came from the music, from the swaying hips of the Sweetbutts, from the genuine happiness in the room from brother to brother. It was early enough that no one was drunk yet and yet late enough to have a good crowd. Chibs watched from his perch at the bar with a quiet fascination. It had been a long time since the clubhouse felt like this, like a second home where family came together.

 

Chibs noted the lack of V-Lin, Bobby and Juice from the room but other than that the other brothers were all around. Even Jax sat in the corner, chatting with Filthy Phil about something. Happy sat alone in the corner and Chibs stared for a moment. It wasn’t uncommon to find Happy sitting on his own, while Chibs knew that Happy did enjoy time with his brothers he could only take so much of being around other people before he’d just disappear. What was uncommon was the angry stare Happy directed at a spot in the wall with such dark intensity Chibs half expected the wall to burst into flame (he also attributed his thoughts to the earlier fire.) Puzzled, Chibs grabbed his beer and finished the rest. He put the empty bottle back on the bar and made to get up to talk to the angry SAA when his phone went off.

 

Chibs leaned back and pulled his phone out of the pocket of his jeans. Still eyeing Happy curiously, he flipped the phone open and brought it to his ear, “Hello?”

 

“Filip!” His wife’s panicked voice had the hairs on the back of his neck standing on ends. There was a great deal of static over the line, like her cellphone had terrible reception. “I can’t find her, I can’t find her!”

 

“Fi,” he raised his voice to be heard over the volume of the clubhouse. “Calm down, Love. Who are you looking for?”

 

“Ker--anne,” the call cut in and out. “Oh God, our Kerrianne.”

 

Somehow the world seemed to continue spinning, the Sweetbutts kept dancing, music kept playing, someone laughed, and none of it made any sense to him. “Kerri?” He ran his hand over his face. “Fi,” his voice faltered and he fought for control. “I need to tell me exactly what happened.” Static filled the line but every now and then he would get a word, or part of one. His anxiety level shot through the roof at the faulty connection. He gripped the phone so tight that his knuckles went white. “Fiona, I can’t understand. Your connection is shit!”

 

“Filip?” More static. “Plea-“

 

When a hand touched his shoulder he jumped of the stool and shoved the person away. His rage filled eyes met Jax’s worried ones. He noticed then that the music had been turned off, that conversations had died and all eyes were on him. He paced away from the bar. “Fi?” His heart felt as though it beat too fast in his chest, his head ached and his stomach was in absolute knots. Completely unable to help with an ocean between him he felt despair weigh heavily on his shoulders. “What happened to Kerri?”

 

His phone beeped indicating another call, he hit ignore without knowing who was on the other line, after all, how could he abandon his wife’s call at a time like this?

 

::

 

Kerrianne stared uncomprehendingly at the payphone. “He didn’t answer.”

 

Trinity cursed. “And the machine took our money!” They had already tried to call Fiona the busy signal taunted them.

 

Kerrianne continued to stare despondently at the phone. She and Trinity were huddled in the little calling booth that also kept them safe from the torrential downpour. Both were chilled to the bone, their clothes were soaked and clinging to their bodies. Kerrianne hugged herself as she shivered. “I… I thought he would answer.”

 

“He’s an ocean away, he couldn’t have helped anyway,” Trinity replied, chattering teeth diminished her attitude.  

 

“He could so!” Kerrianne snapped, defending her decision. “Besides, who else are we going to call, huh?”

 

“I’m calling Ma,” Trinity said as she pushed her way in front of the phone with a handful of coins in her palm.

  
“No! She’s…” Kerrianne froze under the dark look in Trinity’s blue-grey eyes. She couldn’t very well tell her best friend what she thought had become of her mother. The men had come fully armed, they’d killed Cherry. She didn’t hold out much hope for Maureen.

 

“She’s fine,” Trinity said sharply as she started to put her pocket change into the payphone.

 

Kerrianne crossed her arms over her chest. She didn’t have quite enough to make another long distance call and Trinity was wasting their chances on a call to a woman who was either dead or taken. She waited until Trinity had put in all her coins and then she side checked her friend out of the way and started to put in her own.

 

“Kerri!” Trinity shrieked trying to reach past.

 

“Stop!” Kerrianne yelled back while getting in the last of her coins and blocking her friend with her body. “I’m getting us help!”

 

Trinity pulled on her arm. “Ma could help!”

 

“She’s with them now!” Kerrianne yelled back. Silence came over the booth and the struggle ended. Kerrianne held the phone tightly in her hand as she dialed the familiar number she’d called so many times before. The rain sounded louder and Kerrianne turned to find Trinity now standing outside of the booth with her head tipped up slightly to face the rain. “Please answer,” she whispered because if she had taken away Trinity’s chance to speak with her mother than she better get through.

 

“Uh, hello?”

 

Kerrianne’s heart skipped a beat and she laughed with her relief. “Oh thank God!”

 

::

 

Silence is a rarity in the clubhouse and was so out of place that it felt oppressive. Chibs listened now that his wife had called once again from a land line. She had gone over the basics: Maureen had called, IRA had come into the shop with guns, the girls had escaped out back, and they’d come to their apartment, Fi had escaped but can’t get a hold of either Kerrianne’s or Trinity’s cellphones. The more Fiona told him, the sicker Chibs felt. With an ocean between them there was a hopelessness to the situation that was painfully familiar.

 

During the explanation, Jax and Happy had cleared out everyone who didn’t wear a patch. The President and Sargent at Arms shared a concerned look before Happy shut the door behind the last man. Everyone stood, gathered around Chibs as they listened to Fiona’s explanation. She remained clear and concise but fear bleed into her voice.

 

Jax hadn’t give much thought to his half-sister, Trinity, not since his own stay in Ireland while retrieving his son, Abel. Upon hearing of the danger she faced, he found himself enraged and desperate to do something to help.

 

The door burst open, disturbing the respectful silence. “Chibs!” Juice called out as he pushed his way between Tig and Happy.

 

“Not now!” Chibs growled. Fiona’s fear had him primed for a fight and he still wasn’t on the best terms with Juice who still sported bruises from Chib’s fists.  

 

“Chibs you nee-“ The words were strangled at the end when Chibs grabbed the man by the throat and shoved him against the wall.

 

“I said not now!”

 

Juice didn’t back down, his eyes met Chibs’s despite the way his heart jackhammered in his chest. He held up his phone. “Kerri,” he wheezed.

 

 _“Da!”_ Kerrianne’s voice filled the space since Juice’s phone was on speaker. _“Jesus! Are you choking him? Let him go!”_

 

Chibs immediately released his death grip on Juice. “Fiona, do can you hear her?”

 

 _“Aye,”_ Fiona’s sigh of relief got caught with a sob. _“My girl, where are you?”_

 

_“Shankill Road.”_

  
“Sweet Jesus,” Chibs felt a chill slither down his spine. He’d grown up during the time of The Troubles in Northern Ireland. He remembered from his early childhood the fear that came with his parents whispering about the most recent violence- or worse, the time his father didn’t come home at all. “How the hell did you end up there?”

  
 _“Ran for like an hour. Tried to stay to alleyways as much as possible.”_ His girl sounded impossibly tired over the phone. _“Da.”_ Her voice broke but he could hear her breathing. _“I can’t keep running. I don’t know where to go or what to do. I don’t know what happened to Mo.”_ The words came out in a rush and a hitch in her breath let him know tears were close. _“They shot Cherry, Da. She’s dead.”_ A sob escaped and he felt his heart shatter with it. _“Da, I don’t know what to do.”_

 

“Is Trini okay?” Jax asked, unable to remain silent without word on his half-sister’s status.

 

 _“Uh, yeah, she’s okay,”_ Kerrianne responded. Background noise created static but it quickly droned out. _“Your brother is asking about you.”_

 

_“Jax?”_

  
“I’m here, Trinity.”

 

 _“They killed Cherry,”_ she said matter-of-factly, a clear sign of shock settling in.  _“I don’t know what happened to my Ma. Fuck its cold.”_

_“Girls,”_ Fiona sounded like her old confident self. _“Can you get to the West Kirk Church?”_

 

A groan came over the line followed by quiet bickering. _“Yeah,”_ Kerrianne said loudly. _“We are about fifteen minutes away.”_

 

 _“I will meet you there_ ,” Fiona said. _“We’ll figure this out from there.”_

“I need to be there,” Chibs said, his dark eyes meeting Jax’s.

 

The President nodded. “I know. Girls, we’re sending help. Tig, call Oswald. We’re going to owe him another favour.”

 

“On it,” Tig pulled out his phone and walked away from the group to make the call.

 

Their numbers were so few, Jax looked at his brothers trying to make the most sensible choice, especially since he’d be temporarily losing his VP. “Juice, you’re with Chibs.” Jax caught the heated glare Chibs sent his way. “Your girl called him,” he said defensively. “When she couldn’t get a hold of you, she trusted him.” 

 

“Time on the phone is almost out. We’re going to the church,” Kerrianne said quickly.

 

“I love you, Kerrianne,” Chibs said, regardless of the burly men he was surrounded by.

 

“Love you too, Da.”

 

 _"I'll take care of them, Filip,"_ Fiona said softly. 

 

"I'll be there as soon as possible," Chibs promised as he leaned his back against the wall. "I'll keep this phone with me until we meet." 

 

"I understand," she replied. "Call me the moment you land." 

 

"I promise."  
  


"Until then, Love." 

 

The silence bore down on the club members. They took care of their own, Chibs and his family fell under the wings of SAMCRO's protection. The members had a varying degree of nerves, anger and desire to get bloody.

 

Tig walked back, apprehensive in his steps. "We have a problem." 

 

Jax blew out and angry breath and searched his pocket for his cigarettes. "Oswald?" 

 

"Yeah, he's not on board," Tig replied, his blue eyes turning to Chibs. Having lost his own daughter, he could imagine how Chibs felt knowing Kerriane was in danger. 

 

"I'll get him on board," Chibs growled as he pushed away from the wall. 

 

Bobby nervously looked to Jax. Many 'Men of Mayhem' would be considered more dangerous than Chibs, but when it came to his family the man could be absolutely lethal. Bobby didn't doubt that in this state, Chibs wouldnt' think twice about obliterating anything between him and his girls. "Maybe we need to look at other options." 

 

"What options do we got?" Jax shot back. "Neither of them would make it out of the country with their past, in the event they did get through, Chibs would likely get flagged the second he set foot in Ireland-"

 

"We'll get Oswald onboard," Tig said with an easy shrug. He didn't care what it took, Chibs would not know the feeling that came with losing a daughter if Tig had any say in the matter. 

 

"Just let me talk to him," Jax insisted as he broke away from the group while pulling out his phone.

 

"Oswald isn't going to budge," Tig muttered while sending a longing look at the bottles behind the bar. 

 

"I've got to pack," Chibs said while grabbing Juice at the back of the neck. "Come on." He pushed the younger man past their brothers, through the club and out the door. He let go of Juice's neck and with the door shut behind them he could finally take a breath. 

 

Juice stared as Chibs practically collapsed onto the picnic table, his eyes riveted to the ground. The moment of vunerability left Juice at odds. Usually when the shit hit the fan, Juice was the one left scrambling. Their broken friendship left a gorge between them and Juice found himself tightrope walking over to the best friend he'd ever hand. Like Chibs had done so many times with him, Juice put his hand on Chibs's shoulder and squeezed. "We're going to get them out of there." It took a moment but Chibs nodded. "We aren't going to pack, are we?" Juice guessed. "We're going to fuck shit up at Oswald's." 

 

"Aye," chibs sized up Juice, not just physically but his eyes bore like trying to figure out the emotional stability of the man. "You up for that, Juicy?" Chibs didn't know about being partnered up with Juice when it came down to his family. Once he had left Juice with his wife and duaghter, asked him to protect them, he'd trusted him then. Now Chibs didn't feel that degree of trust. 

 

Juic kicked the toe of his boot into the ground a couple of times. "Look. I know you don't hold a lot of trust in me right now but when you asked me a couple of years ago to look after your family... it meant a lot, that trust." Juice shifted awkwardly. There had never been a time in his life when he'd been left in charge of something so important, that he'd been trusted so completely. "You didn't have to ask then and you don't have to now, I'd give my life to protect your wife or Kerri. I'm up to 'convincing' Oswald. I'm up to going to Ireland and doing whatever it takes to keep them safe. I've got your back." 

 

The words were small comfort and Chibs nodded. Regardless of his level of trust in the younger brother, they needed to secure a flight overseas. His stomach churned as he stood. "Let's go." 


	23. For What It's Worth

Juice had an access of nervous energy that he burned by bouncing on his toes. He shot off a quick text and shoved his phone back into the pocket of his jeans. He thought of Kerrianne and the panicked way she had spoken to him over the phone. The notion of her in danger left him with a heavy feeling of dread. She’d become the one bright spot in his life and perhaps he relied a little too much on those once-in-a-while calls. The idea of a world without her seemed abysmal. He shook his head. He had to believe that she would be okay, the alternative was too dark to consider. He stood a step behind Chibs on Oswald’s front porch, well past the kind of hour a man like him would expect company.

 

Oswald’s face appeared in the long panel window beside the door. “Go away! I told Tig and I told Jax-“

 

The words were cut off when Chibs took one step back and kicked the door by the lock. Unlike some cheap apartment or hotel doors he’d kicked in before, this one held. “Open the fuckin’ door!” Chibs yelled.

 

“Jesus Christ!” Oswald exclaimed. “I have a wife and kid, this is not the time for white trash bikers to be at the door. I can’t help. I’m sorry.”

 

Before Chibs could get another word in, Juice pulled his gun from the back of his pants and shot clean through the lock. Chibs threw a bewildered look Juice’s way, but the younger man just shrugged his shoulders as if what he’d done was the most logical choice ever. Chibs grabbed the doorknob and gave the door a shake. The remainder of the deadbolt slid back to the gaping hole left by the bullet and the door swung open.

 

For every step Chibs took into the house, Oswald backed up another and put his hands up. Fear coursed through the wealthy man clad in pajamas. “Are you fucking insane?”

 

“You’ve really got to help us out here,” Juice said stepping over the threshold behind Chibs. “Sorry about the door.”

 

Oswald looked at both men like they’d lost their minds. “You can’t do this. I’ve always maintained a good relationship with the cl-“

 

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about the past,” Chibs growled, encroaching on the man’s personal space. “My wife and daughter are in danger.”

 

Oswald took a tentative step back. “I’m sorry to hear that, really I am, but I can’t help.”

 

“Can’t?” Juice asked his gloved fingertip running along the top of a gorgeous blue and white lustrous vase. “Or won’t?”

 

“Don’t touch that!” Oswald commanded. “It’s worth more tha-“

 

Juice flicked the vase from its perch, it hit the ground and completely shattered. He smiled at the pretty fragments before he looked over at Oswald and shrugged his shoulders, almost apologetically. The glass gave a satisfying crunch under his boot as he stepped over it. “You have some really nice stuff around here.”

 

“Dad?” A small voice came from the hall. “What’s all the noise?”

 

Oswald’s face became a mask of dread. “Tristian! Go back to bed!” Juice poked his head around the corner to look down the hallway and then disappeared beyond Chibs’s field of vision. “Stay away from her!” Oswald took a step forward but Chibs put one hand down on the man’s chest and pushed him back a step.

 

“You and I have business,” Chibs said. “You’re going to get me safe passage to and from Ireland. You’re going to make sure that fucking plane is on time when I need out with my girls. Do you understand?”

 

“Planes just don’t come and go as you please,” Oswald argued. “And I’m getting buried in your club’s messes. I’m not your whipping boy.”

 

Tristian’s screams left both fathers cold. “Let me go! Let go of me! Ow!” Tristian cried out in pain. “Dad, help me!” Juice pulled the girl out from the hallway, a gun pressed against the side the base of her neck. He moved the gun just a bit to make sure Oswald could see it.

 

Chibs felt sick to his stomach. He had watched Juice slowly decline ever since Roosevelt had maneuvered him into being a rat. The care-free mischief had drained away, the laugh, the goofy grin and ill-timed jokes were all but a thing of the past. He’d become harder, angrier and quieter with cold, dead eyed stares. Still, Chibs gawked, unable to believe that Juice would put a gun to the teenage girl’s head.

  
“Daddy,” Tristian whispered, a tear slipping down her face.

 

“Look,” Juice snapped gaining Oswald’s attention. “I really wish we had time to talk this out and convince you but since we don’t I’m going to make this real simple. You’re going to get us to and from Ireland safely. In return,” Juice shifted the gun to Tristian’s temple. “I don’t add your daughter’s brains to those glass bits. Deal?”

 

Oswald stared, petrified by the biker holding a gun to his daughter’s head. Her pleading voice put ice in his veins. He nodded. “I… I will make some calls. Please,” he begged. “Don’t hurt her.”

 

Chibs couldn’t believe his eyes but he had no time to debate methods. Using the cards he’d been dealt, Chibs shoved Oswald toward the main room where the phone sat on a fancy mahogany table. “Get on it.” 

 

::

 

Fiona waited outside of the church and let out a sigh of relief when she saw two young women walking briskly through the downpour. She abandoned the shelter of a stolen car and ran toward them. Instinctively, her eyes first ran over her daughter whose hair held so much water it fell completely straight. She looked for injuries but both Kerrianne and Trinity seemed relatively unharmed.

 

“Ma!” Kerrianne broke away from her friend when she spotted her mother. She ran straight into the warm embrace of her mother and held on for dear life. All at once the crushing fear caught up with her and but she managed to choke down tears. She couldn’t afford to break down, not even in the protection of her mother’s arms. They were all still in grave danger and she didn’t want to be a burden. One hand left her back and Kerrianne looked up worriedly, but her mother had simply pulled Trinity into the hug.

  
“It is going to be okay, girls,” Fiona assured them. She rubbed circles on their backs trying to give them some warmth. “Come on, let’s get you two into the car. I know a safe place to lay low and get warmed up.”

 

“What about my ma?” Trinity asked. Her grey-blue eyes were exhausted and fearful when they turned to Fiona.  “We can’t just leave her there. We have to do something.”

 

“Right now, waiting is the right thing to do,” Fiona insisted, trying to soothe the young woman. “We need more information. We can’t go into anything half-cocked.”

 

“Fiona! This is my mother we’re talking about! Please, we have to do something,” Trinity pled. “We need to go back for her! She needs us!”

 

“Your mother wanted you safe, she begged me to keep you safe and that is exactly what I am going to do,” Fiona replied sharply. “Both of you get in the car.”

 

“They’re going to kill her,” Trinity’s voice broke as she succumbed to tears.

 

“Then she is already dead,” Fiona countered. She needed the young woman to understand, regardless of how painful the truth. “If she is alive, they took her. Regardless, we can’t help her right now. So we lay low for the time being.”

 

Trinity sobbed, her tears blending with the rain that beat down upon them. Kerrianne took her best friend by the elbow. “Come on,” Kerrianne insisted softly. She put her arm around Trinity’s shaking shoulders and led her to the car. Trinity seemed to lose all fight and simply fell into step with her friend.

 

::

 

It took over an hour but Oswald secured Chibs and Juice a flight to Ireland leaving in the middle of the night. He handed Chibs a print-out that he’d signed. “That will get you on board. You’ll have three days in Ireland before the next plane is coming back. I’ve asked them to clear anyone with you.”

 

“Thank you,” Chibs replied. Regardless of how he got the papers, he felt grateful they were in his hand. The paper was his ticket to his family.

 

“Don’t thank me” Oswald snarled, his eyes narrowing into slits. “Your buddy is holding a gun to my daughter’s head. I will be talking to Jax about this.”

 

“Just don’t go to the police about it,” Juice replied with a small shrug of his shoulders. “Your wife is out of town. Little Fall Spa in Red Willow, right?”

 

Oswald stood a little taller. “You stay away from my wife.”

 

“Just make sure the plane is there to bring us back,” Juice’s voice lowered with the implied threat. “I have friends in Red Willow. Not the kind of men you’d want around your prim and proper wife.”

 

“Daddy,” Tristian stared at her father. “Please, just give them what they want. I’m scared.”

 

Oswald seemed to deflate. “Just let my daughter go, leave my wife alone. The plane will be at both places exactly when your ticket says.”

 

“Good man,” Chibs pat Oswald on the shoulder and took his leave. He heard Juice follow him but they didn’t speak until they were mounting their bikes. He turned to Juice who didn’t show any signs of guilt about what he’d done. “You and I are going to talk.”

  
Juice nodded. “Not here.”

 

“No,” Chibs agreed. Oswald’s driveway was not the place to ask Juice what the fuck he’d been thinking when he grabbed a teenage girl and held a gun to her head. “Get your shit packed. Meet me at my place.”

  
Juice nodded and buckled his helmet. “I won’t take long.”

 

The thunder of their motorcycles starting up broke up the silence of the night and they rode off into the darkness.

 

::

 

Chibs turned his head at the brief knock but before he could answer the door swung open. Juice came in with a knapsack that he tossed in the corner. “I’m almost done,” Chibs informed him while tossing a pack of cigarettes into his duffle bag and resuming his search for a spare lighter. He figured after he got off the plane the stress would have him taking up chain-smoking and didn’t want to be slowed down any.

 

“I wasn’t going to hurt her,” Juice insisted immediately. He didn’t need Chibs to bring up what happened at Oswald’s to know it bothered him deeply. Ever since Juice had joined the Sons, he had needed Chibs’s understanding and acceptance.

 

“You held a gun to a young girl’s head,” Chibs argued as he pulled open a drawer and found a pack of brand new lighters which he threw angrily into his duffle-bag. There were some things needed to be kept sacred and even the Sons drew the line at harming a child. “What the hell were you thinking? You got something wrong with your fucking head?”

 

“We needed Oswald to sign those papers. Kerrianne is counting on us,” Juice insisted. “Fiona too!” He ran his hand over his mohawk. “Besides-“

 

“She’s a kid, you should have left her out of it!” Chibs’s voice lowered menacingly. As a father, he couldn’t wrap his mind around using a child for leverage.

 

“Would you let me finish?” Juice’s eyes had gone devoid of any emotion and he stared blankly at Chibs. Chibs made a sarcastic hand motion as if to say ‘go on.’ “Tristian was in on it.”

 

Chibs raised an eyebrow. “She didn’t look in on it. I didn’t hear you two talking in the hallway.”

 

“I text her before we went into the house,” Juice explained while leaning back against the wall. “I told her to just go with it. Like improv, she’s into drama.”

 

The VP took an intimidating step forward. “You robbin’ the cradle, Juicy? She can’t be more than sixteen.”

 

A brief look of disgust and horror passed over Juice’s features. It hurt that Chibs thought him capable of something so sinister. “No fucking way! And she’s seventeen,” Juice corrected. He grimaced upon the realization that the correction probably didn’t help his cause and he hurried to explain. “Look, she goes to the local internet café to do homework. One time I was there getting coffee when her laptop crashed. I told her I could fix it and she took me up on the offer.”

 

“And she gave you her number and let you hold a gun to her head?” Chibs replied, disbelief colouring his voice.

 

Juice groaned and ran his hands over his head as he got his words together. “No. While I worked on her laptop, she started doing her calculus homework on paper. Got frustrated with it so I explained it to her.”

 

 “Calculus?” Chibs repeated disbelievingly.

  
“Yeah, calculus.”

 

Chibs’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “She goes to one of those prestigious smart kid schools.”

 

Juice looked embarrassed and shrugged. “So?”

 

“So you helped the girl with advanced university-prep calculus?”

 

“Yeah, I’m good with numbers okay, fuck!” Juice threw his hands in the air in frustration. “Point is, I get coffee at that café often enough to see her now and then. Sometimes she asks me for help, apparently I explain it better than her ‘impatient d-bag teachers,’ her words, not mine by the way. So I gave her my number so she could call or text if she had a math question. She’s called a couple times so her number is in my phone.”

 

“You have her number because you tutor her?” Chibs spoke slowly as if it would suddenly make more sense if he did.

 

“I don’t tutor, I just occasionally assist with a question.”

 

Chibs leaned his hip against the kitchen counter. “So you told her to roll with whatever happened?”

 

“Yeah. I took the clip out of my gun when I went into the hallway to show her nothing bad could happen,” Juice insisted. “She played along.”

 

Chibs’s cynical nature got the best of him. “Why?”

 

“Because she’s a good person and I told her your family is in danger.”

 

The two men stood in silence for a moment. Chibs processing and Juice watching to see what happened. Chibs blew out a breath and nodded. “Alright then.” He checked his watch. “I’ve got to call Jax. Warn him about Oswald’s impending call. Then we have to get going.”

 

Juice pulled a cigarette out and nodded. “I’ll wait outside.”

 

::

 

“Answer that thing,” Tara muttered as she rolled over and away from Jax. She grabbed the blanket and pulled it over her shoulder.

 

Jax reached out blindly and patted the side table until his hand hit his phone. He grabbed it and flipped it open. “Yeah?”

  
Tara kicked him just below the knee. “Shh!”

 

“One second.” He huffed out a breath and abandoned the warmth of the bed. He stepped carefully through the darkness and slid his hand over the wall until it came in contact with the doorknob. He let himself out and shut the door once again. “What is it?”

 

 _“Oswald is likely to call,”_ Chibs replied. _“He’s not happy.”_

 

“I already got that call,” Jax admitted as he walked into the kitchen and turned on the light. His eyes narrowed while they adjusted to the brightness. “By the way, thanks for the heads up on your plan, VP.”

 

_“They’re my girls, Jax.”_

 

“And Trinity is my sister, I have someone at stake here too,” Jax opened the fridge and stared in as if he might find the answers of life in an orange juice container. “Once I got off the phone and both you and Juice were gone, I figured where. Oh, by the way, I talked Oswald down, the club owes him big and shit but Juice has to pay up for some vase he smashed.”

 

_“How much?”_

 

Jax laughed. “Only twenty five thousand.”

 

A sigh created static on the line. “That’ll take the kid a while.”

 

“You okay with taking him?” Jax asked. There weren’t many options and he still thought Juice best for the job but if he and Chibs didn’t work harmoniously it could be disastrous for the women they were sent to protect.

 

_“Aye. I’ve got to go. We’re taking a cargo plane at midnight.”_

 

Jax snorted. “Good luck with that.” He sobered up and shut the refrigerator. “Have a safe trip and bring those women home.”

 

_“Aye. We will.”_

_::_

Out of the corner of his eye, Chibs saw Juice rub his ears again. They were at cruising altitude but obviously Juice’s ears were still bothering him. Chibs pulled a pack of gum out of his duffle-bag and held it out. “Chew gum. It helps.”

 

Juice eyed the pack and managed a small smile before he took it. “Thanks.” He freed a piece from its plastic prison and tossed it in his mouth before handing it back. The space they were in was crammed with goods headed for Ireland. Juice propped his feet up on the crate and stared upward. He didn’t particularly like small spaces but he didn’t consider himself claustrophobic. He had more space upward than he did to either side or ahead and so that’s where he put his attention.

 

Chibs’s mind replayed the night’s events. From Fiona’s panic that put ice in his veins to Juice pointing a gun at Tristian to them getting on a plane. He stretched out and tried to get comfortable with no avail. His mind slowly dissected each moment until he zeroed in on one. Slowly, he turned his head to Juice and tried to check his burning temper. “Juice. How did Kerrianne know your number? She’s had to have switched her phone a dozen times since we were in Belfast last.”

 

Juice swallowed hard and tried to combat his nerves. He figured that ‘calculus’ would come out as a smartass answer if he used it a second time. “I guess she keeps it in the event she can’t get a hold of you,” he replied trying to appear nonchalant. He made a show of shrugging his shoulders. “Which worked out in your benefit tonight.”

 

Chibs studied Juice whose worry could be clearly read on his face. Chibs held out his hand. “Give me your phone.”

 

“What?” Juice jumped a bit in his seat. “Why?”

 

“Juice.” Chibs’s eyes narrowed and he held out his hand. Reluctantly, Juice pulled his prepaid out and put it in the other man’s hand. Chibs made quick work of going through the call list. Since he had the same contacts he recognized the numbers despite the lack of names. There were a few from Jax, a couple from Ratboy, two from Bobby and fifteen from his daughter. His teeth grinded together. “You helpin’ her with her homework too?” venomous sarcasm coated the words.

 

“She isn’t in school anymore,” Juice grimaced, immediately regretting his choice of words. He sighed. “I talk to her. What do you want me to say?”

 

“It’s what I don’t want you saying, it’s who I don’t want you talking to!”

 

“I was good enough to protect them a few years ago!”

 

“You aren’t anymore!” Chibs bellowed and his voice echoed off the bare walls of the cargo plane.

 

The words created such oppressive tension that Juice found it difficult to breath. He nodded. “Yeah. I know.” Chibs watched as Juice’s eyes drained of light. “If you’re going to punch me, can we wait until we’re off the plane?” Juice requested. He swept his hand out, gesturing to the close proximity of cargo. “Otherwise, I’ll likely end up concussed in here.”

 

Chibs felt at odds. The lack of fight in Juice drudged up old protective feelings for the lad. On the other end, Juice wasn’t the kind of influence he wanted on his daughter.  The physical distance between the two reassured Chibs on one level but he knew first hand that distance didn’t end feelings. Knowing he’d need Juice while in Ireland, he let it drop for the moment but he’d surely be having words with his daughter the second he was able.


	24. Vunerable

The sunrise painted the sky in orange and gold. Birds sang cheerfully. Lyla sat in the big Chevy Tahoe with a travel mug of coffee warming her hands. Such a beautiful morning, she observed, the sky and the birds oblivious to the violence of the night before. In the rush to get them all to safety Lyla had failed to get the children’s school supplies and so they packed into Primo’s spacious SUV early in the morning to retrieve them.

 

Lyla looked to the backseat to see Piper’s head leaning against Ellie, his eyes closed and his mouth slightly open. Her eyes met with Ellie’s who half-shrugged with the arm not being used as a pillow. A small smile tugged at Lyla’s lips. Kenny yawned widely as he stared out the window.

 

“This won’t take long,” she promised the children.

  
“Can you grab my makeup bag?” Ellie asked. She looked pointedly down at Piper.

 

“Sure,” Lyla promised. “Anything else anyone wants?”

 

“Captain Crunch,” Kenny said, pushing some of his dark hair from his eyes. “I’m hungry. There is only canned stuff at the cabin.”

 

“I know,” she said apologetically. “I’ll be getting groceries tonight.”

 

Primo pulled into the lane and saw Raul behind the crime scene tape. Calling Charming PD hadn’t been avoidable. Earlier, when Lyla realized they would need to go back to the house for the school supplies he’d called ahead for backup not wanting any more surprises. Primo exited the vehicle and quietly shut the door, aware of the sleeping boy in the back.

 

Raul walked up, shorter by a foot than Lyla. He pushed back his already slicked hair and turned dark eyes immediately to Primo. “House is clear,” he informed. He shot a sideways glance at Lyla before looking directly at Primo again. “We need to talk.”

 

Lyla pushed back some of her long blonde hair. “I’ll be right back.”

 

Primo’s hand shot out and grabbed her arm before his mind caught up with what he had done. “No. Stay here. I’ll go in with you.” He turned his attention fully back to his brother-in-arms. “What is it?”

 

Raul’s dark eyes narrowed. “Business, _ese_.”

 

“Then wait here,” Primo ordered before he led Lyla back into the house.

 

Someone had been around to board up the broken windows. Evidence had been hastily collected before Charming PD had left. Boot prints tracked through the little house. Primo followed Lyla around as she hastily packed up knapsacks, grabbed Ellie’s make-up bag, a few of her own personal belongings and the cereal Kenny had requested. On her way back to the door she faltered mid-step her eyes drifted to the bullet holes.

 

“Come on,” Primo urged when he grabbed her lightly by the arm. “The kids are waiting.”

 

“It could have been them,” she whispered fearfully. Her tear filled blue eyes turned on him in a desperate need for strength and comfort. She missed her husband, despite how broken their relationship had been, or how alone she’d felt in it, one thing she’d had was a sense of security. She’d been alone for too long and she felt as though she was buckling under the weight of her responsibilities.

 

She turned once again to the holes in the walls, the reality of what could have happened fully sunk in. Her body trembled as a sob escaped her lips. She tucked her head, she’d tried so hard to keep it all together for the kids but she’d never been a pillar of emotional strength, she’d always leaned on the support of others. She hated her reliance, hated it more now with so much more riding on her being able to be a strong and caring mother.

 

Her eyes had looked so lost it felt like a punch to the gut. She’d held her shit together, he gave her props for that. She’d put herself in the line of fire for the kids, she’d handled the questions from Charming PD like a pro, she didn’t think twice about abandoning her home for the safety of the cabin and even there, she’d comforted the children and even after the only thing she’d shown was exhaustion, with a touch of a temper that quickly quelled. Now, in her home where she should feel safe, tears streamed down her face. She swiped the back of her hand along her cheekbone, her head still bowed. “Sorry,” she muttered before hiccupping a sob.

  
Anger, vanity, pride, he could ignore those easily enough. Vulnerability brought out protective instinct, formed attachments. Even as a child, he’d always stood up for the underdog. Primo let out a sigh and pulled her in. She tensed up but then leaned in, her arms wrapping around his waist. He’d have to be dead not to realize how good she felt pressed up against him. His ran his hand over her hair almost experimentally. He’d seen her do it a dozen times to soothe Piper and he hoped it had the same effect on her.

 

She sniffled and leaned into the touch. His strength became hers. She pulled away a bit and wiped her hands over her face. “I’m so sorry, I thought I’d be okay, I thought-“

 

“It’s okay,” he told her. “I’m going to get you through this.”

 

She nodded but felt saddened as she turned away from the little home she’d tried so hard to make work. His hand guided her, felt warm through the silk of her soft pink shirt. She shot him a grateful smile over her shoulder before they parted ways.  She continued down the lane to the Tahoe while Primo walked over to Raul. “So,” Primo pulled out a cigarette. “What is it?”

 

Raul pointed his thumb toward Lyla’s little white cutesy vehicle. “Her car.”

 

A curse escaped his lips, no more than a whispered breath. Primo stormed past Raul and over to Lyla’s little white Prius. He took a piece of paper out from under the windshield wiper and read over the simple message. _‘Pay up or pay dearly.’_ With the hand written message came a spent shell casing sitting just under where the wiper rested.

 

“ _Pinche cabron,”_ Primo cursed. He shoved both the note and casing into his pockets and returned to Raul. “This fucker is dead.”

 

Raul gave a lazy smile. “Count me in.”

 

::

 

Ally understood the need to get up early and start the day. Through years of law school she had nearly foregone sleep completely. Her alarm clock continued to beep until she reached out and swatted at the thing. Lazily, she swung her legs out of bed and sat up. Her mouth felt dry, a side-effect of the alcohol she’d consumed the night before. The rest of the day’s events sorted out in her mind.

 

She stood and grabbed her long silk robe from the hook on the back of her door. The impulse buy felt like heaven on her skin as she pulled on the bright red material. She pulled her hair from the collar and quickly sorted the tie. She typically brought things for practicality, but the red number did next to nothing for a chill. The red robe’s only real accomplishment was that it could make her feel sexy and womanly.

 

She abandoned her room and headed into the kitchen to find it gleaming. The scent of lemon cleaner and fresh coffee wafted around the open space. A hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon and buttered toast sat on the island.

 

“Might be a little cold now,” Rosen commented, not even bothering to look away from the newspaper he read.  “I suggest microwaving it.”

 

“You made breakfast,” she said, unable to hide the shock in her voice.

 

He smiled but continued reading an article. “Such keen powers of observation, Lowen. It’s like you’re a professional.”

 

“No need to be snarky,” she replied grabbing the plate.

 

Rosen finished with the article when he heard Ally’s stomach rumble. He smiled and abandoned the paper completely. He looked over at her ready to banter, but his rebuttal died on his lips as he stared. He’d never expected the conservative, practical Ally Lowen to have such a garment in her arsenal. The silk hung and draped over her body, clinging around her breasts, cinched in at her waist and hugging her hips. Sometimes it was difficult to remember that under the conservative suits and dress clothes she had an incredible body to go with her quick mind. He looked back to the paper and fought to find something remotely normal to say.

 

“Weather is calling for rain tomorrow.” He nearly cringed and hated it when he got tongue-tied and felt the need to force conversation. He didn’t have any feelings for his protégé. He liked her, sure, in a strictly professional fashion. The problem was the robe, and the way it kind of gaped around her chest as she walked around grabbing sugar and cream to add to her coffee. Any man would have such a primal reaction.

  
Her reply came as a small hum. She stirred her coffee and took a small, testing sip. “I’ll pack an umbrella.” The microwave dinged and she removed her breakfast. “Thanks for doing this.” She walked around the island and took up the barstool next to him. “Breakfast… staying.” She couldn’t bear to look at him. She felt rather weak for calling him in the first place. 

“I’m glad you called,” he admitted. 

  
The admission had her turning to face him. He looked rather dishevelled from the night on the couch. It appeared as though he’d tried to tame his hair, but bits still stuck up in random directions. The suit had gotten rumpled from being slept in, although his suit jacket had been draped neatly over one of her chairs along with his tie.

 

“Sorry about disrupting your night,” she said sounding every bit as guilty about it as she felt.

 

“Don’t be,” he insisted. “Toric should have never come to you. We have to go to the Sons. You need protection.”

 

“Yeah. I know.” She pushed the food around on her plate with the fork. “He really scared me,” her voice lowered with the admission and her cheeks coloured pink. “I should have handled it better.” She viciously stabbed the egg yolk. “I should have checked to see who it was before opening the door. I was so stupid.”

 

“You assumed safety in your own home.” He understood why she’d opened the door without thought but it didn’t mean he didn’t want her to understand the gravity of her situation. “It isn’t stupid… just naive.”

  
“I know,” she grumbled before she started to eat and the two fell into a companionable silence.

 

::

 

After dropping the kids off at school, Primo and Lyla headed to Diosa. “What did that guy want to talk about?” Lyla asked trying to hide her curiosity under innocence.

 

“Raul?” He shrugged and kept his eyes on the road. “Nothing.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Liar.”

 

“None of your business.” Primo replied gruffly. He felt the need to protect her, and right now, she didn’t need to hear about the looming threat. The reality check of the night before would serve as enough warning to watch herself.

 

Lyla’s mouth dropped open a bit and she let out a defeated sigh. Thinking that he would confide in her was as foolish as thinking that Opie would have confided in her, and hell, they’d been married. “Sorry I asked,” she muttered and the remainder of the drive was spent in absolute silence.

 

Primo pulled the large vehicle into the Diosa lot and he parked in his usual spot. She avoided eye contact and he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. The further they walked in silence the more tension plagued them. Lyla broke away once they were inside and immediately went to the front desk.

 

Primo watched the gorgeous blonde he’d been charged with protecting and felt his temper rise into the red zone. He stormed over to Tig and pointed at Lyla. “Watch her.”

 

Tig gave Primo an inquiring look, but nodded. “Sure thing.”

 

 Primo stormed to his cousin’s office and hit his fist against the door a few times. “Open up.”

 

The door opened a second later and Nero had to back up a few steps as Primo stormed into the room. “Christ, what’s gotten into you?” Nero asked as he shut the door to ensure their privacy. 

 

“Call the Sons,” Primo demanded. He took out the letter and the shell casing and slammed them down on Nero’s desk. “This gets fucking settled.”

 

::

 

“Son of a bitch,” Jax muttered as he hung up the phone.

 

Tara turned away from the coffee maker to look at her husband. The morning light lit up their kitchen. He sat at the table looking tired, his son in his arm and a bottle in hand. “I take it that call didn’t go well.”

 

Jax stared down at his baby boy. “I have to get ready to go,” Jax replied. It pained him to leave his family, especially since he and Tara stood on a tightrope and one wrong move could send them both crashing down. He stood and passed Thomas off to his mother. He pressed a kiss to the top of the boy’s head and then to his wife’s cheek. “Nero sounded like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. I’d hate to see this entire situation getting worse. Maybe that accountant found something.”

 

Tara sighed and held their son close. Her dark worried eyes met his determined blue ones. “Stay safe.”

 

“Always, Darlin’.”

 

::

 

Nero watched with a great deal of patience as his cousin paced the office while muttering curses and threats. “Primo, just sit down,” Nero said patiently from his spot in the plushy leather office chair. “We’re going to get this sorted, _ese_.” The words didn’t seem to hit their mark and Primo kicked a filing cabinet before turning on his heel and pacing the other way. “Arcadio! Enough!”

 

Primo turned at the use of his proper first name, his shoulders drooped at the order in his cousin’s voice. “She should be safe,” he said, his voice quiet but determined.

 

Nero pushed his hand through his hair. He knew his cousin better than anyone, and while Primo could be one immovable sonovabitch, he had a soft spot for a woman in distress. While Nero knew he had made the right choice as to who would best protect Lyla, he also worried because Primo didn’t just get worked up like this over nothing, _or just anyone_.  “She will be.”

 

A knock at the door cut off further conversation and Primo had his hand on his gun when he pulled the door open. The Sons of Anarchy President stood on the other side and gave a slight smile. Primo took a step back and let Jax in.

 

The three men sat around the desk and Jax jumped right to the point. “So Nero, what was so important that I had to leave my wife and two kids at eight in the morning for?”

 

“Lyla,” Primo spoke up before his cousin could. “Kane’s men shot up the place.”

 

Jax’s face went ashen and he covered his eyes with his hand for a moment. “Jesus Christ.” His hand pushed back his dark blond hair and he cursed under his breath. “Everyone whole?”

 

“Not for lack of them trying,” Promo replied gruffly. “We were all just fucking lucky.”

 

 Jax’s hands went together like he was praying. His best friend’s Old Lady and two kids nearly got shot up in their own home by a man they should have already set straight. He thought of how Luanne Delaney ended up when he failed to send the proper message. If Lyla, Ellie or Kenny got hurt it would have been blood on his hands, Opie’s family.

 

Three quick hits on the door had the men turning. While Nero had called the front desk to have Jax waved through, he didn’t expect company. It was uncommon but not unheard of for one of the girls to come and talk to him about something work related though. He walked over to the door with a dismissal on his tongue but when he opened the door the blonde accountant smiled up at him. “Indiana?”

 

“Four years of Forensic Accounting!” she replied bounding past him in her excitement. “Finally put to good use.” 

 

“Did you find our money?” Nero asked as he shut the door.

 

Indiana smiled and held out a file. “I’m going to try not to bore you with the details but the money was syphoned off and split up into two separate accounts, I figure to hide their tracks and if we go after one it’s going to alert the other. Pretty smart,” she admitted begrudgingly. “But both of the accounts do transfer a portion of money to a ‘company’ fund. Only thing in the company’s name is a warehouse in Bakersfield.”

 

Nero nodded. “Do you think the ‘company’ is actually a crew the other two are paying for protection?”

 

“It’s crossed my mind,” Indiana admitted. “The other two parties are private and I can’t access any personal information about them. You’d need someone who works at the bank to tell you who it belongs to.”

 

“Or a hacker,” Nero countered. He didn’t like the risk that threatening a bank teller would bring.

 

She nodded and a few strands of hair escaped the confines of her bun. “But either of those are going to take time.”

 

“Time isn’t something we have.” Jax said before he let out a quiet curse. Of course, he sends his Intelligence Officer to Belfast when they need a hacker. Just his luck.

 

Nero turned back to his right hand man and the MC President. “Look, I know we got other business, but we are literally days away from lights out for Diosa. We need to hit this place,” he said waving the folder. “Hard and fast, we get one of them to flip on the other two parties and we get our fucking money back before we go bankrupt. We can hit Kane back later. Right now those kids and Lyla are safe.”

 

“Whoa!” Indiana turned so quick her neck hurt. “What happened?” She then grimaced and bowed her head. “Sorry, none of my business.”

 

“Lyla’s place was shot up,” Jax supplied. He trusted Quinn besides, it wasn’t like a neighbourhood shooting would stay quiet in a town like Charming.

 

Indiana paled and she shook her head. “And the kids were there?” Less of a question than a statement of disbelief. “I take it there is going to be retaliation?”

 

“Absolutely,” Jax assured. He’d rather strike back now but he needed to remember brains before bullets. If Diosa closed its doors there was no telling how long it would take them to get back up and running again and in the mean time they would lose even more money. “But first we hit that warehouse.”

 

Nero raised a hand. “I know you don’t like it, Primo.”

 

Promo stood and walked by his cousin. “I’m staying here.” And then he was out the door.

 

A soft curse escaped Nero’s lips. Apparently his cousin’s attachment to Lyla would be a problem. He didn’t wait for an order, he just decided what he was going to do and when he would do it. Of course, technically speaking, he was still just following the protection order since the job was not yet done.

 

“Call up a few of your boys,” Jax said standing. “I’ll grab a few of mine, we hit this place. I’ll text you with a meeting place.”

 

“Sounds good,” Nero replied and the two men hugged briefly.

 

“Stay whole,” Indiana warned Jax as he opened the door. He shot her a grin and nodded before the door shut behind him. “That goes for you too,” Indiana said shooting a glance Nero’s way.

 

“Didn’t know you were such a worrier,” Nero jested.

 

She raised an eyebrow, gave a small smirk and shook her head before she walked out.

 

::

 

Happy stood with Jax, Tig, Nero and his two guys at the treeline in front of the warehouse. It didn’t look like much and only one truck sat outside. The men were all eager to get in and stop their business from hemorrhaging money. Happy had missed two payments on his mother’s healthcare and had started getting warning letters from the hospital. He needed the payday but Diosa couldn’t pay out when it continued losing money and the gun business was currently rocky at best. He pulled out his gun and checked his clip out of habit.

 

“We go in quick, hit them hard and come out whole,” Jax said to them all, but specifically to his two brothers.

 

“Got it, Boss,” Tig replied as he adjusted his grip on his gun.

 

The men ran from the treeline to the warehouse only to encounter a locked door. Their obstacle didn’t take long to deal with, one boot from Tig and the cheap door splintered away from its lock and hit the interior wall. They moved fast but the big open space was easy to clear.

 

“Fucking empty,” Jax muttered angrily. They were losing money and he’d been assured that little Miss Quinn could figure out where that money was going. They were running out of time before Diosa had to close its doors and it wasn’t a financial hit that the club could take at the moment.  

  
“I thought the little accountant chick said we’d be finding a crew here,” Tig asked as he put the safety back on his gun.

 

“We guessed we’d be finding a crew here,” Nero corrected. His anger remained hidden through years of experience. Still, not finding anyone at the building threatened his livelihood and that of those who worked for him.  “No proof. Just payments getting run through this building.”

 

Jax turned and stormed out, the rest of the men following. “So basically, we have fucking nothing.” He mounted his bike and pulled on his helmet. “Everyone back to Diosa.”

 

Happy didn’t like driving out to Bakersfield only to come across nothing. Worse, he was leaving without visiting his mom which made him feel guilty on top of it all. He had a feeling that once they got back to Diosa, it would only get worse. Jax didn’t hide his anger and Happy figured he knew exactly who the target would be.

 

::

 

The door to Indiana’s office burst open as she packed up for the day. She quickly turned and her hand went over her rapidly beating heart. “Jax, Nero,” she blinked a few times as the door shut behind them. “You startled me.”

Jax crossed his arms over his chest. “You got it wrong.”

 

A fair eyebrow disappeared under her bangs as she raised it in confusion. “Excuse me?”

 

“The warehouse!” he bellowed as he took three steps forward and slammed his hands down on her desk. “The warehouse was completely empty. Didn’t look like anyone had been around. Ever. You got it wrong!”

 

Indiana’s mouth dropped open a little and she fought for composure. She stood a little straighter and her fingertips brushed along the desk full of notes. “That can’t be,” she whispered. She found herself unable to believe that the one thing she prided herself in being good at was something she had failed in. Mathematics had always been a comfort to her. You have a start point, you know the formula, you get the answer. Certainty was in the numbers.

 

“Well it is!” Jax snapped. “And we’re running out of time. Diosa is going to go bankrupt!”

 

She looked over the notes and then to her computer screen as if something she missed would magically present itself. “Maybe I missed something.”

 

“Clearly you did,”Jax snapped back. He’d brought her in and that meant that the financial loss his brothers would continue to take was his fault. “This is a fucking waste of time.”

 

Nero noticed the glossiness in Indiana’s eyes. As much as he hated being robbed from and potentially losing his business, he didn’t see the point of continuing to yell at the woman who’d tried to help. “Jax, that’s enough.”

 

Jax’s eyes narrowed at her. “Bringing you in was a mistake,” he said, his voice low and angry.

 

“Let her take another look,” Nero insisted as he put a hand on Jax’s shoulder. “We haven’t got time for someone else to start from scratch.”

 

The MC President shook his head knowing he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. “Fine.” He stormed out of the office and the door slammed shut behind him.

 

Nero turned to Indiana who apart from the glossy eyes appeared stable. “Keep looking,” he ordered.

 

She gave a sharp nod and watched Nero leave. Only when the door shut did she let her shaking knees give out and she fell into her chair. Her body trembled from her own failure, her nerves frayed and tears threatened to fall. Jax’s harsh words built up tension that left her shoulders in knots. She sniffled but refused to cry as she turned her attention back to her piles of notes. “I’m not wrong,” she whispered to herself. Too much proof, the two accounts merging back to that warehouse. There had to be some kind of connection but arguing that with either Jax or Nero would only make her look like an idiot who couldn’t admit her own error.

 

Her eyes went to her phone and she picked it up. She scrolled through a contact list of numbers only until she found the one she wanted.

 

He answered on the third ring. _“Yeah?”_

 

“Hey,” she said keeping her voice even. “It’s Indie. I need a favour.”

 

_“Anything for you, Sweetheart.”_


	25. Before The Storm

Darkness had settled in before Indiana got to the Tacoma clubhouse. She parked the hotwired car to find a party in full swing. Nothing like a little grand theft auto to put life in perspective. Despite certain life skills being taught to her by her father, she’d never used them, not until now. Desperation had kicked in and she felt off balance. She had always been slightly outside of the club, a part of it because of her blood but an oddity within it. She needed her bright clothes, the thick tomes she studied, the eco-friendly car, they were grips that kept her from losing herself to the club. Now, here she was dressed in business casual, blowing caution to the wind in a hotwired car. _Sinking_ , she thought, _I’m sinking_.  She lived under the shadow of her father, under the weight of the club and fought her entire life to keep her head above water but now she felt like she was drowning in it all.

 

Parties were part of the life but as she stared out from her side window her skin felt itchy. She cursed softly under her breath and stepped out into the cool night air and shut the door behind her. Music blasted out of the speakers, voices and laughter joined in. Despite the many patches she felt her heart twist. They weren’t her Nomads. As a child, her father told her, she’d trusted anyone with a reaper. At twenty-seven, she’d lost that naivety. She’d grown up around men who had later betrayed the club. It forced her to take a double look at everyone.

 

The gentle breeze blew her long blonde hair around and she impatiently pushed it out of her face. Her eyes took in the men in kuttes and the women with short skirts, and the air simmered with lust that would boil over before nights end. It left every nerve on edge.  After waiting around for five minutes she figured she had to just dive in. Her pencil skirt and blouse stood out among the low cut tanks, micro shorts and mini dresses of the other women. She nearly tripped when a hand wrapped around her wrist and gave her a tug. “Where are you goin’ there, Sweetbutt?”

 

Her eyes cut to the man who sat on the bench. He was easily old enough to be her father, dark hair, cold eyes and a kutte worn proudly. The usual remarks that she would use in a bar in such a situation like ‘not interested’ or ‘let go’ were out of the question. Disrespect would not fly with this man, especially not in their domain and certainly not when he was surrounded by brothers. She bent down to be heard over the music. “I’m looking for Dax,” she said loudly. “Have you seen him?”

 

“I know Dax,” the man replied with a wicked grin. She shivered as the hand not preoccupied by holding her wrist ran along her thigh. “And he don’t have no Old Lady.”

 

“I didn’t say I was his Old Lady,” she replied, her eyes narrowing. “Which way is he?”

 

“Indie!” An arm went over her shoulder and she let out a sigh of relief at the familiar voice. “Hey Benny, mind if I take this one off you? I need to show her somethin’.”

 

Benny laughed and released Indiana’s arm. “I bet you do, Kid,” he laughed and ambled off for another beer.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t think you’d be here yet,” Dax said keeping his arm over her shoulder protectively as he led her inside.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” she replied. “Did you get the documents I e-mailed?”

 

“Yeah,” he grabbed a few beers on his way through and guided the way to one of the back rooms. “I was still kind of surprised you called me.”

 

She spared him a glance as she pulled a second chair up to the desk. “Why’s that?” she asked. She’d always gotten along with Dax. He had worked as the Nomad’s Intelligence Officer since she was a child. She studied him for a moment, he hadn’t changed all that much since her childhood. He stood only five-six, his dark brown hair had grown out and was kept in a ponytail. Something was off though, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

 

“Mac’s gotten pretty good in recent years at hacking,” Dax replied as he twisted the cap off of the first beer. He offered it to Indiana but she shook her head. Mac’s name being mention had her stomach twisting into knots. She had thought about calling Mac. Briefly. Very briefly. After their argument she feared speaking to him. She found a better answer by going to Dax. He shrugged, unaware of her discomfort, and took a long pull off the bottle. “I mean, I taught him everything I know and he is your old man. I thought you’d go to him first.”

 

“I’m not supposed to look like an associate of the Sons,” she replied finding her mouth dry.

 

“Email and phones work fine,” he argued as he looked her over. “You two have a fight or somethin’?”

 

“Something,” she replied vaguely. She couldn’t’ explain her situation with Mac, especially not to Dax.  “Coming here just made more sense, less likely to get caught. Your mustache!” He turned and raised an eyebrow. “That’s what’s missing!”

 

He laughed and shook his head. “Really?” She grinned and shrugged. “Alright, Kid. Let’s get to work.”

 

::

 

Impatience warred with logic. As much as Chibs wanted to get to his girls, he needed to do it smart otherwise he’d simply put them at risk. His stomach churned as he replayed his conversation with Fiona over and over in his mind. For now, his girls were safe and hidden. He needed to get to them without drawing attention. A little hard to do with facial scars and a companion with distinguishing tattoos on his head. Juice swatted his arm and then disappeared inside of a tourist shop. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Chibs muttered under his breath. He got out of the way of busy pedestrians by leaning against a light post and killed the time by having a cigarette. Another one. He needed a new pack soon since he’d been chain smoking since he got off the plane.

 

Ten minutes later Juice walked out wearing a black knit-cap that had ‘Ireland’ in shamrock green stitched in, a bulky green hoodie that had ‘Belfast’ written across the chest and a bag in hand.

 

Chibs stubbed out the third cigarette he’d smoked while waiting.  “You look like a fuckin’ tourist.”

 

“That’s the point,” Juice argued as he shoved the second bag into Chibs’s chest. “They aren’t looking for tourists.”

 

Chibs peered into the bag and saw another sweater and hat. “Going to look like a couple of fucking fags walking around matchin’ and shit.”

 

Juice’s dark eyes narrowed. “Then fucking toss it,” he spat bitterly before stalking off.

 

Chibs cursed before he fell into step with the lad and dipped his hand into the bag. He pulled out a baseball cap that had Belfast written across the front and bent the beak before putting it on his head. Smart thinking, if he tipped his head down it would obscure the world’s view of his face. The sweater was black and had the white outline of a sheep on the chest. “You sayin’ something?”

 

“It was the only thing in your size,” Juice replied, automatically defensive and angry. “Don’t wear it if you don’t want to, I don’t give a shit.” His soul felt like it had been rubbed raw with sandpaper. He shut it all down, he couldn’t bear any of it. He focused on the goal of reuniting Chibs with his family. Maybe then he could rebuild some measure of self-respect.

 

The heated words startled Chibs. Juice took knocks, he didn’t usually give it back and certainly not to him. The kid had his back against the wall, metaphorically, and was lashing out at anything and anyone who dared get to close. He used to be the one who could get through to the lad, the one who could make sense of it all, get him back onto even ground. Chibs didn’t want to identify the feeling that gnawed on him. It felt suspiciously like guilt. Instead, he unzipped the sweater he had been wearing and tossed it in the nearest bin along with the bag the new sweater had come in. He passed the cap off to Juice so he could get the pullover over his head. They paused for a minute in the street and remained completely silent when Juice passed the cap back. In tandem with one another, they started walking once again.

 

::

 

“This is going to take a while,” Dax muttered as he glared at his monitor.

  
“How long?” Indiana asked.

 

Dax frowned. “A couple of days.”

 

“What?” Her mouth fell open. She didn’t have a couple of days! She needed answers twelve hours ago!

 

“It’s a fucking bank, Indie,” Dax’s voice lowered to soothe. “I get that you’re in a pinch here, and I’m doing what I can but hacking into banks isn’t like hacking into the DMV, okay? I don’t do it _just so_ you’re going to be spending the next eight to ten visiting my ass in prison for putting me there.”

 

She put her head in her hand and let out an agitated breath. “Alright, alright, I get it. Fuck. I get it.”

                           

He squeezed her shoulder. “Sorry, kid.”

 

The word ‘kid’ grinded on her, like always. “You’re the one doing me a favour.” She dropped her hand and turned to look at him. “I am grateful, I know I’m not really doing a good job of showing it, but I am.”

 

“I’ll show you out,” Dax said. He’d watched the girl grow up and his Tacoma brothers didn’t know just whose daughter she is nor the fact that despite the lack of ink, she had an Old Man, he didn’t want someone like Benny grabbing at her again. “And I’ll call you the second I get names.”

 

She gave him a brief hug and forced a smile despite the headache caused by her endless worry. “Thank you.”

 

::

 

The electronics store had three different television models set up in the window. High definition, big screen, LCD. All three played news footage which mesmerised both Chibs and Juice. “Un-fucking-believable,” Chibs muttered. On screen, the burning wreckage of the SAMBEL clubhouse. Death toll at five but people were still unaccounted for. Chibs crossed himself. He hadn’t told his girls to go to SAMBEL. Trust didn’t come free these days and it didn’t come automatically with those who shared the reaper. Not after McGee and certainly not after Liam O’Neill whose bomb killed his beloved nephew, Padraic. Still, the bombing of a Sons of Anarchy clubhouse had his teeth grinding together. “I’ve got to inform Jax.” Juice nodded but continued to stare at the fiery wreckage on screen.

 

Chibs took a few steps away from the crowd who watched the televisions with morbid curiosity. He put the call through and frowned at the sleepy answer he received. Of course, it would be late in Charming. He hadn’t considered the time change. “Jax. We’ve landed.”

  
_“Good. Find them?”_

“I know where. Not there yet. Playing it safe.”

 

 _“Understand,”_ Jax muttered.

 

“SAMBEL’s clubhouse was bombed.”

 

Silence met the proclamation and Chibs nearly repeated the statement when Jax finally swore. _“How bad?”_

 

“Five dead,” Chibs replied. “Well, that’s the count as of right now.”

 

_“Fucking IRA.”_

 

“Gaalen must be royally pissed.” Chibs contemplated the reasoning behind the bombing. Could be problem in IRA/SAMBEL relations, but he figured it more likely that this was a repercussion of SAMCRO’s actions. After the Cartel had stolen the Irish guns and taken SAMCRO’s money, Gaalen had said, ‘Sons are going to feel this on both continents.’ It only made him worry more over his wife and daughter.

 

 _“I’ll make some calls,”_ Jax said, mostly to himself. _“See whose still breathing. Thanks for the heads up.”_

 

Chibs got off the phone and grabbed the hood on the back of Juice’s sweater. “Come on, I want to make it there before night fall.” Frankly, every second away from his girls was a second too many. Juice took one last worried look at the televisions before he fell into step beside Chibs.

 

::

 

Rock music played just loud enough to ensure that conversations stayed private and it forced people to lean in at a table or closer to their sweetheart to hear. Sanctuary stuck true to its name, the patrons appreciated the steady flow of drinks and a kind ear to bend. Bartenders are cheaper than psychiatrists after all. Tink more than handled the mid-week crowd just fine on her own. After all, the mid-week crowd consisted of only six people. She shot a wink at one of the townsmen who always tipped her well and continued to bring a couple of after-work Cosmos to three of the waitresses from one of the local diners.

  
She collected empty glasses from a table and brought them back behind the bar. Her hips swayed to the music and she waved goodbye to the last of the guys. Business never quite recovered after the Nomads had moved on. Red Willow didn’t have much of a population and while weekends kept them afloat it made for a tight budget.

 

With the glasses washed, sanitized, dried and put away, Tink wiped down the counter, just for something to do. The girls giggled but finished off their drinks, cleared their tabs and were on their way.

 

Staring out at the empty barroom she let out a quiet sigh and turned off the music. The silence ate at her. She was accustom to the undertone of music, loud voices, and the sounds of the cue ball clacking against object balls in a rowdy game of pool. She’d brought up her business worries with her husband and he took off on his motorcycle to clear his head. _Hours ago_. She rubbed her temples, trying to ease the tension.

 

The door opened and she put a smile back on her face as she greeted the new patron. “Hey there, Stranger,” her eyes raked over the man in appraisal. Not their usual clientele. The suit and tie stood out from her usual blue-collar regulars.  “What can I get for ya?”

 

He strummed his fingers on the bar a beat as he deliberated, the thick gold ring on his finger shimmered under the bar’s lighting. “Have you got Heineken?”

 

“Sure do,” she replied grabbing a bottle from the fridge. She used the bottle opener that was attached to the bar since Emily had the habit of losing them. “You want me to open a tab?” she asked as she handed over the beer. Immediately his hand grabbed around her wrist, she tried to jerk away but he held steady. Her blue eyes turned to ice as she glared at him.

 

He took the beer from her hand and chugged bottle before setting it down. “No, I won’t be staying.” He pulled her closer, her tiny body crashing against the counter. To her credit she didn’t make a sound but she bared her teeth and her nostrils flared with her anger. “I just have a message to pass along.”

 

“Should I grab a paper and pen?” Tink growled back.

 

“Smart-mouth little bitch,” he sneered. “I could think of better things to do with that pretty little mouth but that wasn’t what I was sent here for. Sons of Anarchy.” He felt her pulse jump under his fingertips. “They’re going to pay and they are going to grieve.”

 

Tink raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “You going to dirty that suit and tie? You go after the club and you’ll be dead before dawn.”

 

He moved so close that she could smell the beer on his breath. “Be thankful you’re the messenger and not the message.” He let go and winked before he left.

 

Anger kept her upright when her knees threatened to buckle. She went to the phone and quickly dialed her husband, his phone eventually went to voice mail. She left the simple message of ‘call me.’

 

Next, she dialed for Brooklyn who answered on the third ring. “Brooke, it’s Tink.”

 

_“Don’t call here.”_

 

“Don’t hang up,” Tink begged. “I just had someone come around the bar-“

 

_“You okay?”_

 

Tink managed a small smile. There had been a time where she and Brooklyn almost got along. “Yes, I am, thanks. He was threatening the club.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. _‘They are going to grieve.’_ “He threatened not just the club but people associated with the club.”

 

_“I’m not.”_

 

“Brooke, your fathe-“

 

_“He’s not my father.”_

 

“Brooklyn, please-“

 

_“No! You know what, I have a man in my life, I have a one-year old son and there is no fucking way I am letting that get tarnished by this club bullshit! Don’t call here again.”_

 

“Brooke!” Tink sighed hearing the click of the line disconnecting. “Shit.”  She blew out a breath. It didn’t make sense for someone to come and threaten the Sons at such a remote location, especially since the Nomads had been disbanded. Technically speaking, her husband had papers in Tacoma but hadn’t bothered to change his patch, his heart wasn’t in it and they hadn’t figured out their situation yet. The papers just bought time. She ran her hand over her dark cropped hair. It didn’t make sense unless the man had a problem with Quinn himself. She quickly dialled and waited.

 

 _“I’m driving,”_ Indiana answered. _“Make it quick.”_

 

“Do you have your gun?”

 

_“Yeah.”_

 

“Is it loaded?”

 

A moment of silence passed. _“Mom? What’s wrong?”_

 

“Indiana, is it loaded?”

 

_“No.”_

 

“Load it first chance. Keep it with you. Just had some asshole in here threatening not just the club but its associates.”

 

_“One second, I’m pulling over.”_

 

Tink held tightly to the phone. Once upon a time, a sawed-off shotgun had rested just under the bar counter but a raid had confiscated it and in attempts to keep the establishment legit, it had never been replaced.

 

 _“Parked,”_ Indiana informed her. _“Are you okay?”_

 

“I’m fine, pissed, but fine.”

 

_“Dad there?”_

 

“No.”

 

_“Jesus. What about-“_

 

“No, nobody was here.” Tink bit her tongue. Lashing out at the woman she called her daughter wouldn’t help. “Business has been quiet lately.”

 

_“Shit. Why would someone go to Sanctuary to threaten the Sons?”_

 

“I was wondering the same thing.”

_“You think it has something to do with Dad?”_

  
“Crossed my mind.”

 

The two women remained silent for a moment. _“What if it’s a club threat? Something bigger?”_

 

“What makes you think that?” Tink asked as she stared at her shaking hand. Her grip on the phone tightened.

 

 _“No defence, little effort, minimal risk, big impact_ ,” Indiana replied. _“If this party… hurt you, hurt Dad,”_ her voice became thin, pained at the prospect. _“Former Nomad President, that’s going to send ripples through the club.”_

 

“I’ll talk to Rane when he gets in,” Tink replied. “Get his read on the situation. If he thinks it’s bad, he’ll call the mother charter’s President.”

 

_“Okay.”_

 

“Everything okay in Charming?” Tink asked.

 

 _“It’s going to be,”_ Indiana insisted. _“I’ve got to go.”_

 

“Load that gun.”

 

 _“I will,”_ Indiana promised. _“Be safe.”_

 

Tink ended the call and pressed her sweaty palm to her aching head. She looked at her phone and wished desperately that her husband would just call back.

 

::

 

Fiona grabbed the gun off the scarred, dust covered table when she head footsteps in the hallway. She motioned to Kerrianne and Trinity to go down the hall. She watched her daughter’s eyes harden and her hand reached back to grab a fire iron. Trinity looked around and although she found nothing worth using as a weapon she stuck close to her friend. The two were admirable, Fiona decided, but fucking stupid.  She put herself between the door and the two girls and raised the gun.

 

Two subtle raps on the door had her heart in a frenzy and not the fearful kind. She worried that she was hallucinating, wishing so much for something that she heard it. She knew that knock, stupid and to anyone else insignificant but breath caught in her chest as she waited it out.

 

“Don’t shoot, Fi,” her Filip said on the other side of the door. “And I have company. I’d appreciate it you didn’t shoot him. He just got this shirt.”

 

A sob escaped her lips but she didn’t let go of the gun. Not yet. Not till she saw him. “Come in.”

 

The door opened and there he was gun raised in his hand, just in case. “Oh, Fi.” He tucked the gun into the back of his pants and walked carefully toward her. “Let’s put that down now, Love.” He put his hand over the barrel and took the gun from her. He put the safety on and tossed it into a dust covered chair.

 

His hand caressed her cheek, thumb sliding along her cheekbone and she melted into him. Her arms wrapped around his middle and she sobbed. Her body shook, her stomach flipped and her heart pounded in her chest. “Filip, oh Filip,” she whispered so desperately grateful that he was here with her.

 

Chibs’s strong arms wrapped around his wife and pulled her in tight. She felt right. She felt like home. He wanted to show her all the ways he loved her, he wanted to take her right there and then but was all too aware of not only their situation but their company.  He inhaled her delicate scent before his eyes found Kerrianne. “My sweet girl,” he whispered and extended an arm.

 

Kerrianne hurried into the embrace, both she and her mother engulfed in her father’s love. She had missed him so much. The fear ebbed slightly in the protection of her father’s arms. She didn’t even notice she’d been crying until she realized her tears were what was making her father’s sweater damp. With one arm around her father and the other around her mother, she felt like they were once again a whole family and together, they could get through anything.

 

Juice stood at the edge of the room. He’d shut and locked the door when he’d come in and then watched the joyous reunion. He tried not to be envious of the happy family, he wanted to be happy for Chibs, for Kerrianne and even Fiona- despite not knowing her all that well, but he just felt sad. He turned to Trinity and could tell she felt the same way. “Hey,” he greeted her softly.

 

Trinity smiled sadly and it didn’t touch her eyes, those stormy eyes that welled with tears. She walked into him, her arms wrapping around his torso and her head resting on his shoulder. She sniffled and he put his arms around her. She remembered him fondly from his time spent in Belfast and at the moment when a happy family reunion was going on only a few feet away, she wanted just to be held, to know she was safe, and Juice fit the requirements.

 

Kerrianne pulled away from her parents but a smile stuck on her face. She watched as her spot in the circ closed, her parents held each other like they were afraid to let go. She wanted that. That kind of love, minus of course, the numerous complications that had kept them apart over the years.

 

She remembered Trinity and the fact that her father had said he’d brought a companion. The moment she saw her father, vision had tunnelled and nothing else in the world had mattered. Now she looked back to where Trinity stood wrapped up in Juice’s arms. She instinctively stood a little straighter. Her jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed as a surge of unexpected jealousy ripped through her already frayed system. She watched as Juice touched Trinity’s shoulders and got some space between them. He bent, just slightly, so they were eye to eye. He smiled- just one of those little ones- and brushed his thumbs under her eyes to dry her tears.

 

Trinity blushed and sniffled. “Sorry,” she said softly. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess.”

 

Juice shrugged, unsure what to say. His eyes found their way over to Kerrianne, now detangled from the family unit. For the first time in ages a big goofy smile came upon his face, his heart thawed and the weight dropped from his shoulders, if only for a brief moment.

 

The smile did her in, snuffed her temper. Kerrianne quickly crossed the room and wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered.

 

She could have said a million things but nothing would be more perfect than that. Juice wrapped his arms around her waist- consequences be damned because for a moment he felt human again.  He held something precious and that gave him purpose which made him feel less like eating his fucking Glock. He didn’t let her go but pulled away just a bit so he could look down at her face and God help him, but she was hands down the most beautiful person he’d ever laid eyes on. “Are you hurt?”

 

She felt captivated by his dark eyes that were colder than the last time she saw him, the lines of him seemed harder, lips sterner. He’d changed while he’d been gone but so had she. His eyebrows drew down worriedly, and belatedly she realized he’d asked a question. The adrenaline was crashing and exhaustion pulled at her. She managed to shake her head. “I’m alright. We’re all alright.”

 

“If you don’t count Cherry,” Trinity muttered bitterly from where she had curled up in a dusty chair trying to keep warm. “Or my mother. Then we’re all fucking peachy.”

 

“Shit,” Kerrianne whispered as she removed herself from Juice’s arms to turn to comfort her friend but froze when she caught the dark look her father was sending past her- and onto Juice. “Shit,” she repeated.

 


	26. Give Me Peace

The metaphorical knife would be useless, the tension in the small, dusty basement apartment would need a chainsaw to cut through. Kerrianne squared her shoulders, and stared down her father as she stood immovably between him and Juice. She still stood so close to Juice that she could feel the heat of his body, which was nice because despite the change of clothes from a second hand store she still felt chilled to the bone. "Nice sweater, Da. Black sheep. A little ironic, yeah? You know, since you're the only one in the family not even a little black."

Chibs's eyes narrowed at his precious daughter who he couldn't be angry with, not when he was so fucking happy to see her. Instead his eyes cut to Juice, Juice he could be angry with. "Well, your good friend Juice was the one to have picked it out."

Hearing the malice in her father's voice, Kerrianne dropped humour and matched his tone. "Can't dress yourself?"

"Enough," Fiona shouted and everyone's attention turned to her. Emotions were running high, everyone was exhausted. "That is enough," she said evenly.

Juice felt unwelcome in the little apartment. He flew over the ocean to reunite Chibs with his family and he didn't want to be the thing that stood in his way of a happy reunion with his daughter. "I'll keep watch outside," he muttered.

Kerrianne turned and grabbed Juice's arm as he walked by. "Wait just a minute, that's unnecessary!" She insisted. Her mother had told her that they would be safe here and she needed to believe that for the sake of her sanity. "We're fine here."

The potent warring emotions of the past few days caught up with Chibs. Seeing his daughter's hand on Juice's arms, the way his eyes locked onto hers when she spoke, the way his darling daughter stared at a man who shared a patch with him snapped the last band of control. He made it across the small apartment in four quick strides and drove his fist home. Juice dropped to the floor, Kerrianne shrieked.

Juice struggled to his feet. He honestly was a little surprised that this hadn't taken place on the airstrip when they landed. Chibs's worry over his family had trumped the need to pummel him then, obviously circumstances had changed. His healing lip had split back open and he dragged the back of his hand to remove the line of blood but only succeeded in smearing it. Like before, he stood there, willing to take the beating. He knew how Chibs would feel about the phone calls, he'd kept them hidden, and for that he felt guilt. He'd do it again in a heartbeat but he regretted the thin ice it placed him on with Chibs.

Chibs pulled his fist back but his daughter stood firmly between them, a hand on each man's chest. "That is enough!" she shouted. "I've watched my friend get killed, ran from a bunch of men until I couldn't breathe, and had to drop my entire life to end up in this little hovel! I'm freezing and I'm tired and I'm so sick of being scared." Her voice broke off and she struggled for control. Chibs's fist dropped as his daughter's tear-glossed eyes turned to him. "I really can't take watching you two beat the hell out of each other right now."

His daughter's tears made him feel guilty but he couldn't let the issue drop as it felt too much like acceptance. "I saw his phone. You two have been talking."

"So?" Kerrianne replied with little defense. She knew damn well her Dad wouldn't like her talking to one of his friends, a man he called a brother right in front of her.

"It ends," Chibs said simply.

The father and daughter stared at one another. Kerrianne shook her head. "You're being unreasonable. Why do you find it so wrong that I talk to one of your friends?"

Chibs ran his hands through his shaggy hair in frustration. "Where do I begin?"

"Just give him a pen and paper, he'll make you a list!" Juice cut in. "If you didn't want me here you should have had Jax send someone else!"

"I didn't know you were talkin' to my kid then."

"What the hell does it matter?" Kerrianne shouted.

"Enough!" Fiona commanded the room with her stern voice. "We have plenty on our plate without going for each other's throats."

"Did you know?" Chibs asked his wife.

"That our daughter was talking to Juice? No. I didn't." Her eyes cut to Juice who froze under her gaze. "Why did you come?"

"For Chibs," Juice replied immediately. A second later though his eyes betrayed him by checking on Kerrianne.

Fiona liked that Juice hadn't said 'the club' but instead 'for Chibs.' She didn't even mind the glance he took at her daughter. Juice wouldn't be her first choice for a man in her daughter's life but her Filip hadn't been her father's first choice either. Unlike her husband, she lived with their daughter. Fiona saw the grin Kerrianne would try to hide after getting off the phone. She'd suspected a boy but had never been able to get a name. She looked at her daughter who appeared exhausted and on the verge of tears. She reserved judgement, after all, there was no point in making something that might never form into a problem.

Finally, Fiona turned to stand in front of her husband, her hands flattened on his chest and she stared up at him until his eyes finally met hers. "He is here to help you. To help us." Her voice dropped to a private whisper as she continued, "Your daughter has been waiting for you, worrying over you. This fight is not something she saw coming, nor is it something I think she can handle right now. She needs her Da to make this better. The poor dear has had her back against the wall since this all started and she's at the end of her rope-"

Their daughters hiccupping sob came on cue and immediately Chibs untangled himself from his wife. Fiona was right, of course, she always was. When rage coloured his vision red, she had always been able to show him the light. He took slow, almost timid steps to his daughter. "Don't cry, my girl. I'm sorry." Kerrianne's tear filled eyes turned up to him and her lower lip quivered. "I'm here now, okay. It's okay," he told her while soothing his hand over her wild curls. "I won't let anything happen to you."

She opened her mouth but the words were cut off by a sob. She rushed into her father and wrapped her arms around his waist. He could feel her body tremble as she wept. She prattled on against his chest but with how hard she cried he couldn't understand her. "Shh, it's okay, it's okay," he murmured.

"I'm sorry, Da. I'm sorry."

"You didn't do anything wrong, Sweetheart."

"Please don't punch Juice again."

"I can't promise anything."

"Da. Please." She gasped. "I just." Again, she sucked in a breath. "I can't."

"Slow down, Kerri. You're hyperventilating," he said rubbing slow circles on her back. "Calm down, nothing's going to happen. I won't hit Juice, okay?" His daughter continued to cry and he led her over to the dusty settee. He sat down with her, never taking his arms from around her. She rested her head on his shoulder and he could feel the odd shake as her body dealt with the emotions flooding her. "It's okay, Baby." His eyes turned desperately to his wife for some way to make it better, but she frowned and shrugged. His eyes turned to where Juice leaned against the wall behind Trinity. "How's your head?"

"Got a thick skull," Juice replied slowly. He shifted nervously under Chibs assessing eyes. "I can still go outside."

Chibs deliberated for a short moment. "No. It's not safe."

"Don't want me drawing attention to them," Juice nodded. "They aren't looking for me."

"It's not safe for you," Chibs replied. The two men still tried to find their balance but Chibs swore he saw a ghost of a smile slip onto Juice's face before he'd turned away. He looked down on her daughter to find her sleeping against him. He let out a sigh and held her close. He'd lost too many years with his daughter and it was hard to realize she wasn't so little anymore. While he'd been gone, his little girl had grown up and he wasn't sure how to deal with that. He let out a sigh and wished he'd picked up more cigarettes. He'd be needing them.

::

The total death toll from SAMBEL sat at eight but two men were still unaccounted for. Jax's stomach churned and he stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette. Gaalen. The fucking Irish and their bombs. Jax ran both hands through his hair, tugging slightly in frustration. He didn't doubt for a second that Gaalen could make the same thing happen in Charming. SAMBEL was a convenient target, it sent a message. His fist slammed down on the kitchen table but did nothing to vent his anger.

Of course, when it rains, it pours. The bombing of the SAMBEL clubhouse wasn't the only thing on his mind. Kane either took part in, or ordered the shooting of Lyla's house. A house she occupied with his best friends children. His fucking godchildren for Christ's sake. Children he swore he'd take care of when his best friend made the ultimate sacrifice for the club. Opie's wife, children and step-child fell under his protection and that of the club. They'd tried civil, they spoke to Kane and created just enough damage to ensure the understanding that they weren't threatening, _they were promising_. He pulled out his cell phone and spun it around on the table. This time there would be blood. They needed a win, besides everyone was hurt and pissed and needed something to take their anger out on.

Instead of making the calls, he decided to take the ride into the clubhouse hoping it would clear the red haze from his vision. He deposited his phone back into the pocket of his jeans and pulled his kutte over his shirt. The weight and scent of the leather was both comforting and suffocating. Family, brotherhood, blood and war all tugged him in different directions and he felt he was losing bits of himself in the process.

::

Tig wiped his hands off and shut the hood on the Prius. He had weaseled the parts out of a nearby garage at a slight mark-up. He just wanted a task to erase the nightmares that has plagued him during the night. It happened, a little too frequently and it was creating an insomniac out of him. He didn't want to sleep, fought against it because in those dreams she'd smile at him, climb in his lap and ask him to read her a story. The nightmarish part was waking up, remembering that his little girl had grown and then it would be all he could do to blast the radio in hopes of killing the echo of her voice calling out for him to save her as her flesh bubbled and burned.

He went into the car and shoved in the keys to test it out. The car came to life with a quiet little purr. "Fucking pussy of a car," Tig muttered before shutting it off again. It suited the quiet manner of Quinn's daughter, he figured. She didn't seem like much, polite but not friendly. Guarded, he decided ultimately. He could see the daughter of a man like Rane driving some beastly car, glossy black, killer engine. "A fucking Prius," Tig shook his head. "And in fucking lime green."

He left the car and went into the office. Gemma sat at the chair with a distant look, her fingers strumming along the desk. "Whatcha thinking about?" Tig asked.

Her eyes cut to him. "What do you think, Tiggy?"

He put on the most innocent face he could muster- which wasn't much. "That Latino dick you're riding?" She threw a pen at him and it hit him in the chest, but she smiled just a little and that was all he wanted.

"I haven't heard anything. There hasn't been anything to hear, I guess," Gemma said softly. Silence fell upon them as they both remained lost in thought for a moment. "I want him dead," she admitted.

"I know," he sauntered to her side of the desk and leaned back against it. "It'll get done. He likely managed some form of protection but I doubt it will last."

"I want it over."

He kissed the top of her head. "We all do." The decisions that brought them to this point were hard to make. Somehow it was harder to wait and watch as it played out now beyond their control.

Wanting to get on a safer topic, Gemma cleared her throat and nodded her head toward the garage door. "Did you get that car running?"

He didn't want to classify it as anything more than a glorified golf-cart but he nodded. "It's finished. Girl can get her wheels back."

Gemma leaned back in her chair. Her nosey side rearing up. "You must have a handle on her," she said. "You both work at Diosa from time to time. What's your read?"

"She's nice," he replied vaguely with a shrug.

"Nice? That's it," she raised an eyebrow, a little smirk on her face.

"I don't see her much, she comes in, she does her work, and she goes home." Tig thought about the occasional look he caught between Indiana and Happy. He figured he only even noticed because Happy never really stuck to a woman but whenever Indiana came in the room, Happy's eyes went to her like they were magnetized. For the sake of brotherhood he decided that his observation would best not be mention to Gemma.

"She sounds dull."

"You sound disappointed."

Gemma shrugged. "With the constant shit-storm we've all been in, dull don't sound so bad. I'll call her and let her know her car is done."

::

Indiana obsessed over her calculations. Two plus two still equaled four. It unnerved her that nothing had been found at the warehouse but that didn't mean she wasn't right it only meant that their enemy was smart. Nerves had her shoulders in knots and her eyes kept going to her phone. Dax said it would take days and it had only been hours. He would have worked through the night for her, she knew that but it wouldn't make the answers come this soon. She busied herself around the little house but she hadn't spent enough time in it to really make a mess.

The kitchen held memories of Mac, their argument. _"You're my Old Ladie, Indie. I fucking love you but… most of the time I get the feeling you don't feel the same."_ The accusation infected her heart and festered. She tried to ignore it but it only became worse as time went on. What a pair they made, him with lipstick on his collar and her all tousled from an impromptu make-out with Happy. She had been wrong to allow any of it to happen. If she had been a better Old Lady, Mac wouldn't have looked elsewhere. If she'd been a better person she wouldn't have cheated on him with Happy. If she had spoken up, Happy would have stopped, she knew that. _But you didn't,_ the voice in her head accused, _you wanted it._

Self-loathing reared its ugly head. Her throat burned and tears threatened to fall. She felt small and despicable. Mac loved her and she tried to be what he needed but always fell short. She loved Happy but knew better than to think he had feelings for her in return. The kiss meant nothing, just as the sex between them years ago had meant nothing. A mistake. His instantaneous regret of being with her still made her feel sickened with herself. She hadn't put up any resistance, no, instead she gave and gave, begged and plead for more. Foolish. Weak. No better than any Crow Eater.

Her phone startled her from her thoughts. With emotions stuck in her throat she couldn't answer and let it go to voicemail. She waited a minute before checking the message. Gemma, her car was finished. Standing around sniffling all day wouldn't solve a damn thing. She decided a long shower was in order and then she'd deal with the day.

::

Filthy Phil drove the van, Bobby rode shotgun, Jax, Happy, Tig, Ratboy, Mac and V-Lin all sat in the back. The vote had been unanimous. Kane had to pay whether he was in Charming or not. The van was best, no warning of oncoming motorcycles and it served well as cover or an escape if need be. Jax, Bobby, Happy and Tig felt the kind of rage the newcomers didn't understand. Each of them were understood the dangers of what they were doing within Charming's limits but none of them could find a fuck to give. It was silently understood by all of them- this was for Opie.

The vehicle turned down Rugger's Lane and the guys in the back all turned their attention to their guns. This would get bloody. The van reversed into the front of the lot so it would be easier to drive away. The back doors opened and the men flooded out. The dead grass crunched under their feet as they quickly made their way across the lot.

Red haze came over Jax's vision. For Opie, for his brother, for that love and loyalty, Kane had to die. He passed a line of cars and made a beeline for the side door. They stormed in to the first large room where they had found men bagging drugs on their first visit. This time, the drugs remained, the men were gone.

"They must be around," Ratboy spoke up. "No one leaves this kind of shit unattended."

Jax agreed and nodded. "Come on, let's find this bastard." And they did. In the next room, only now Kane had a lot more friends. The large room held somewhere between twenty and thirty men, tables lined with drugs and suitcases of money. Some men wore suits, others causal clothes, some had ink, others looked clean cut but no one had time to get a good look before the guns started to come out.

Happy had never been a fan of retreating, he wasn't a coward but he wasn't fucking stupid either. "Boss," he growled grabbing Jax's arm and giving a quick jerk back. "Time to go."

Like Happy, Jax didn't like the idea of tucking tail and running but after the massacre of SAMBEL's charter the Mother Charter really couldn't take such a devastating hit. "Yeah," he agreed but he found Oliver Kane in the mass with a smile on his face. Jax's lips set into a grim line, he wouldn't rest easy until that bastard was six-feet under.

Gunfire rang out and Happy pushed the President ahead of him. "Go!" Their escape was blocked by two men who had flipped a table onto its side for some semblance of cover. One shot over the table blindly and it grazed along Happy's ribs. "Motherfucker!" It burned but knew it had skimmed the bone, tore the skin. It bled but he'd live. All the man had really accomplished was pissing him off.

"Shit!" Tig swore as he crouched down behind a wooden crate of drugs. Everyone struggled to find some form of cover but there wasn't much in the room and they were being shot at from two sides. Tig and Bobby focussed their attention on firing into the room, rarely did anyone get hit but it prevented anyone from coming through.

Happy stood shooting at the table, they needed out and that door was the quickest way to escape. That and he really wanted to kill the fucker who'd shot him. He heard one of them cry out but couldn't get a bead on the second. He fired blindly into the wood until he heard another grunt of pain. He walked over, ignoring the pain in his side and looked over with his gun aimed. Both men were a mess of bullets and blood. _Good._ Before he could tell everyone else they needed to get the hell out more gunfire rang out and he was tackled from the side.

"Jesus fucking Christ, are you insane?" Mac asked while hooking his arm under Happy's and dragging him behind cover as a barrage of bullets just missed his legs. "Just stand there, why don't you? Fuck!"

As SAA, Happy had priorities. "Where's Jax?"

"Over by Tig," Mac replied. "Or was last I saw." He groaned as Happy moved with more agility and grace than he ever would have given the man credit for especially when he factored in the injury. "Yeah, just go back into the line of fire," he muttered to himself. "Not like you're bleeding all over the place or anything."

Happy got to Jax and Tig. "We got to go."

"Already sent Phil, Rat and V-Lin out," Jax said shooting at the doorway. His clip ran out and Tig took up shooting at the door and Bobby hurried to the door next.

Happy put in a fresh clip. "You and Tig next," he insisted and narrowed a cool gaze at Tig who understood and nodded. "Mac you stick with me."

Mac poked his head over the box by the door. "Got it!"

"Go," Happy ordered as he laid down cover fire until both Jax and Tig were out of harm's way. He backed up and continued shooting until his clip ran out. "Mac!"

The cover fire on the door continued as Mac popped back up from his spot and moved to cover them as they moved through the door. His gun ran empty and he could see Jax and Tig in the back of the van the doors open, waiting for them. Jax started to frantically point and Mac turned he made out a suit behind one of the cars and the glint of a gun. He raised his own only to remember he was out of bullets. The loyalty of brotherhood that came years of being a Son had him taking a side step to guard his brother's back. "Hap! Look out!"

Happy realized that Jax was pointing far too late. He turned in time to see Mac taking a step to guard him just a second before issuing the warning. In that moment he got a good look at the man behind the car, the muzzle flash followed by the jerk of Mac's body as it absorbed the bullets at centre mass. Shouting and more bullets followed, the man ducked but did not fall.

"Hap! Let's go!" Tig shouted as the Sons shot from the van, the cover fire keeping Kane's workers and friends at bay.

Mac struggled for breath, blood soaking his shirt and kutte. Happy knew that Mac had protected him. _Stupid, loyal bastard._ But so was Happy, who ignored the gunfire and dragged Mac's body along with him to the van.

Wheels spun and kicked up grass and gravel as it sped down Rugger's Lane in retreat. Happy didn't notice the movement, he was too focused on trying to stop the bleeding. He attempted to ignore the way Mac's hand grasped his, the fear in the younger man's eyes and the name that kept forming silently on his bloodied lips. "Call Tara," Happy said sternly without looking at Jax. He pressed harder on the wounds, taking one hand away momentarily to slap Mac on the cheek when his mouth stopped moving and his eyes stayed eerily fixated on Happy. "Wake up!"

But calling Tara wouldn't matter. MacAlister Smith stopped breathing not even three minutes after he was shot.

::


	27. Guilt and Grief

The taxi pulled up in front of Teller-Morrow and the driver told Indiana the total. Indiana opened her purse, her pearl handled Colt revolver sat loaded beside her wallet. She quickly pulled out a couple of bills and put them in the driver's hand. "Keep the change," she said as she exited the vehicle.

After a phone call and a brief message, Indiana found herself nervous about meeting Gemma Teller-Morrow. She dealt with those nerves the same way she always had. She buried the nerves under a professional demeanor. She wore a pair of black lacks, a navy blue blouse and sensible flats- armour for the real world.

She walked onto the lot to find a woman coming closer. The two women paused and sized the other up. Indiana adjusted the bag on her shoulder as she got her first look at Gemma. Tall, but with the assistance of heeled boots, jeans, black tight shirt and black leather bomber jacket that she looked very much at home in- not armour like Indiana but a uniform of sorts. She looked secure and in her element.

Gemma looked Indiana over, Gemma had no doubt about who the woman was because of the height and timing. Not really what she expected of Rane Quinn's daughter. The blonde had model good looks, the Quinn smile and dressed like a bank teller. Dull, but she reminded herself that dull would be welcome.

"You must be Indiana," she said as she crossed the lot with careful strides and swinging hips. "Come on, let's get a drink."

Indiana stared in shock as the woman passed by her. "It's not even ten in the morning yet!" Gemma paused, looked over her shoulder and cocked an eyebrow. Having grown up in the life, Indiana knew better than to disrespect the revered matriarch. "One drink," Indiana agreed as she followed the older woman into the clubhouse.

::

The van parked in the lot. The silence hung tense and heavy over each of the brothers. Doors opened but Happy scarcely noticed. Mac's green eyes seemed slightly faded and glassy as they continued to stare up at him. Accusingly? Could a dead man accuse? And why the hell had he gotten in the way? Why had Mac protected him? They shared a patch, a brotherhood but they'd never been close. Why did he care? Jax's hand came down on his shoulder, and only then did he realize they were alone with the dead.

"I'll tell Indiana," Jax said. He'd gone into that building gun-ho. He wanted to hurt Oliver Kane for going after Lyla and the kids. He walked them into what could have been a bloodbath. They had lost a brother but they could have lost more.

"No," Happy responded. Mac had saved his life. He would tell Indiana. Besides, Jax was little more than an acquaintance to Indiana, Happy on the other hand, he'd known her nearly her entire life. "I need to be the one to tell her."

"Alright," Jax nodded. There had been a terrifying moment in the back of the van at Kane's while they waited for Happy and Mac when he saw the man with the gun and he thought Happy was a dead man. "Whatever you need but first we need to get you patched up. You're bleeding all over the place."

Happy looked down, his kutte had a line of missing fabric from where the bullet had torn. The same line could be found on his skin if you could see past the blood. He'd been so consumed with what Mac had done he'd completely zoned out the pain. He nodded, still numb. "Give me a minute?"

Jax kissed his temple. "Sure," he patted Happy's shoulder. "Love you, brother."

Happy waited until the back doors shut. He thought he should say something but he'd never been one to have a gift with words. Instead he carefully shut Mac's eyes and folded his hands over his chest. "Thank you," he whispered roughly. It didn't seem enough, not when he could continue breathing while Mac had bled out in the back of a van- and since they could never explain the bullet wounds, they would have to bury him in an unmarked hole.

The name that had silently been mouthed by a voiceless Mac before he died haunted Happy. "Indiana is tough. She's going to be okay." He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince, a dead man or himself. She'd be torn up, that was the truth of it. She felt deeply, most in the life hardened to deal with the violence and bloodshed but she'd never truly managed. This would devastate her. "I'll make sure she gets through," he promised.

He had brief conversations with Mac before but they'd never been close. They'd fought, argued a couple of times, but when push came to shove, Mac had always been a stand up brother. In that moment when Happy was honest with himself, his real problem with Mac had always been that he'd been close with Indiana. Happy never felt settled when a man got to close to Indiana. He stared down at the body, knowing he needed to get cleaned up and stitched up. He tried to find words that didn't fall short and eventually just leaned on the ones Jax used. He put a hand over Mac's folded hands. "Love you, brother."

He pushed open the back doors, Tig offered a hand which he didn't take out of pride. It cost him as both feet hit the ground and the pain shot through his side. Pain started to crack the numb fog he'd sat in. Ratboy shut the van doors and the men headed toward the clubhouse.

Happy felt apprehensive about seeing Indiana. He didn't know how to break the news to her, he didn't know how she would take it. Tears would likely factor in and that made his stomach roll. He heard Jax on the phone with Tara talking about stiches. He figured it would be best to get a few drinks in before that happened. He fell behind the guys a bit while he fished out a cigarette to help settle his nerves.

::

Indiana didn't really like the SAMCRO clubhouse. Sure, it had a good open floor plan but it looked like a glorified man-cave. Mug-shots on the wall, a layer of dust with the bottles and her shoes had stuck to the floor when they'd walked through. She and Gemma sat at the bar, each with a shot of tequila in front of them. "I hear you're good with numbers," Gemma said breaking the ice.

"I am," Indiana replied with her eyes narrowed. She doubted Jax had much faith in her right now, and considering whose son he was, she doubted that Gemma had much faith in her either.

"And you're working at Diosa," Gemma's eyes ran her over. "Those legs could make a killing."

The idea made her skin crawl. "I'm an accountant."

"Men love that secretary fantasy."

Indiana's mouth pressed into a stern line but the door opening distracted her from responding. She recognized most of the men from their security shifts at Diosa. They looked miserable and a couple of them couldn't even make eye contact with her. Gemma's hand on her shoulder told Indiana that the older woman could sense it too. Something had not gone as planned.

Gemma turned to her son. "What happened?" Jax frowned and didn't answer, his eyes averted to the floor.

Indiana's heart leapt to her throat, she abandoned the bar. Her knees threatened to buckle as she moved closer to the men. _Where is Happy?_ Her mind screamed while she maintained the cool professional exterior. Her heart raced and she stood on the verge of panic. What if something happened to him? What if he had been taken, or shot or stabbed- what if he had been killed? Her hand trembled over her stomach. Her breathing kicked up as she moved, trying to get a better view of the doorway as more men came in. Last one in, smoking a cigarette was Happy.

Her breath evacuated her lungs and her heart overruled her head. She shoved past the men and stopped short of him when she spotted the blood. "Oh God," she whispered.

Happy nearly dropped his cigarette in surprise. He tried to find a reason why she'd be there, looking at him with those big eyes. Her car, he figured. He had assumed that he would have time to get clean and get stitched, and in that time maybe he'd figure out how to tell her that her Old Man wasn't coming home. Now she stood close enough that he could smell her sandalwood perfume with the delicate hints of flowers. Her hands shook as they covered his wound. "Indie," he stubbed out his cigarette on the wall and dropped it to the floor.

She turned away and shot a scathing look at Jax. "Why haven't you taken him to the doctor!" she shouted. Happy could see her temper flaring. He knew how she worked, she would maintain cool up until that last push and then she ignited with fury. While her words were full of anger, her eyes held fear and her fingers pressed with determination and Happy knew she wouldn't be able to reach full steam with her emotions at war. "You need medical attention," she whispered the fear leaking into her voice.

"Tara is coming," Happy told her as he gently removed her hands. "Indiana, I-"

"What happened?" The blood that coated her fingers was warm and terrifying. "Were you shot?" Her panic-stricken eyes looked up at him and it gutted him.

"I'm fine, now listen-"

"You should be sitting down! I'll get rags," she turned only to remember this wasn't her bar. "Gemma?" her voice up an octave in her panic. "Where are the rags?"

Sensing that her worry had snuffed out her temper, he grabbed her arm and turned her back towards him. His hands weighed heavily on her shoulders and belatedly he realized he smeared blood on her blouse. No matter how he said it, it would hurt. "Mac is dead," he stated simply. Her head cocked slightly to the right as if she simply didn't understand. Her lips parted just slightly.

"No," the word escaped no more than a breath. She turned and studied the faces of the other men expecting Mac to be among them. She shook her head and shifted to look past Happy. He had to be there.

"Indiana-"

"He's not dead," she snarled in denial. Mac couldn't be dead. Her mind refused accept it.

Happy's fingers dug into her shoulders. "I wouldn't lie to you."

Logically she knew that and that was what made the situation so crushingly difficult. She sucked in a breath and it shuddered on the way out as she tried to control the oncoming sobs. She shook her head. "Hap, he can't, he can't be," her voice desperate and on the edge of tears.

He loosened his grip on her shoulders. Her distress was like a knife to his heart, each of her words continued to twist it just a little more. "I'm sorry." The words were insufficient but all he had.

"Where is he?" she asked, her eyes begging as she looked up at him.

"No, Indie-"

"You didn't just… leave him, please." The thought of Mac's body face down somewhere had her knees shaking. "Hap, please tell me you didn't-"

"No, no, he's-"

"I need to see him." The thought made her nauseated but she needed to see with her own eyes before she could begin to accept it. "Where?"

His jaw clenched tightly and he shook his head. Her eyes stared unrelenting and tears welled in them. "Fuck," he muttered. "The van." She moved faster than he'd expected and couldn't stop her before she was out the door.

She paused briefly, her heart pounding in her chest, as she looked across the lot at the van. Her feet took two shaky steps but her body reacted instinctively to the adrenaline and she went into a run across the lot. She nearly stumbled as she stopped, her hands fumbled with the back doors in her haste but she finally managed to pull them open.

Somehow, in the back of her mind, she'd been able to convince herself that some kind of mistake had been made. That Mac wouldn't be there, that somewhere he was just fine. The tears were uncontrollable and she reacted without a thought by climbing into the back of the van alongside a man she'd known for more than a decade. Her friend. Her lover. She had shared her life with him, a house, a bed.

"Mac," his name came out on a sob as she crawled over to him and tried to breathe. Three holes in his chest, the blood soaked his shirt and now dried in to a sticky, flaky mess. She couldn't even attempt to hold her emotions in check looking at the macabre scene before her. Her purse slipped from her shoulder and fell open with a clunk. She cradled his head in her lap, one hand skimmed over his cool cheek, the other searched desperately for a pulse she knew deep down she wouldn't find. _Dead, he's dead_. The confirmation destroyed her. She held the body of a man she'd loved and sobbed.

::

Happy stood outside of the van listening to the gut-wrenching sobs of Indiana. He figured he'd let her grieve until Tara arrived and then get her the hell out of there. The thought of her inside, crying her eyes out over a man who saved his life left him feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the situation. Too many emotions from all sides, most disturbingly though, emotions on his own side. He really shouldn't want to comfort her, to hold her while she cried over her Old Man but he did.

"You should go in, sit down," Tig suggested. His eyes nervously went to the wound on Happy's side.

Stubborn and defensive, Happy shook his head just once. "I'll wait for Tara."

Tig shot Jax a look who shrugged. They both knew that it was pretty much impossible to make Happy do anything he didn't want to do. And so they waited, the men stood around the vehicle listening to the anguish of Indiana Quinn.

Happy pulled out his pack of cigarettes. He didn't really want one, not while his breakfast threatened to make an encore appearance but he wanted something to do with his hands. He needed a distraction and something to take the edge off. He turned to Bobby. "You got a joint?"

Bobby pulled one out of his kutte. He knew it wasn't often that Happy indulged in such a thing, the man liked to stay sharp but understood that a little dulling would be more than welcome for the SAA. He passed the joint off and nodded at Happy's gruff word of thanks.

His fingers shook as he lit up. He took the first hit and wished her cries would stop ripping through his soul. Each hiccupped sob and long wail brought out a long buried instinct to comfort. He inhaled deeply and held for a few seconds before slowly exhaling. Tara's vehicle pulled into the lot and he'd never been so grateful to see her.

Tara got out of the car with her medical kit and pulled off her dark sunglasses. "Rat, could you take the boys to the playground?" she requested.

Ratboy nodded and walked toward the car where Abel and Thomas sat. "Sure thing, Tara."

Her dark eyes found Happy amidst the men. Blood soaked the part of his shirt that she could see, the dark leather covered the rest. It just never ended. The life of violence and blood unsettled her, she turned to Jax and tried to find her center. "Come on, Happy. You should be lying down."

He turned to look at Indiana, a vision he'd avoided until he was done his joint. He thought it would dull the picture before him. Her lithe figure was curled over his head which she cradled in her lap, her shoulders hunched almost defensively, her hair curtaining them from prying eyes. He kept his back turned on her and the guys. "I can't leave her here."

"I got it, brother," Tig volunteered.

Happy shook his head and put out an arm to block Tig's way. In some way, she'd always been something special to him and now her Old Man had died for him. He had promised to take care of her and he'd be damned if he'd walk away so soon. "No," he replied shortly. He turned to his brothers. "Give me a minute with her."

"Sure," Jax replied patting the SAA on the shoulder.

"He needs to get patched up," Tara argued in a low voice as she was led away.

Her cries twisted him. He put his hands in the van and leaned heavily on them. His body wanted sleep, the loss of blood and crash of adrenaline didn't do him any favours. "Indie. Come on." She made no sign that she'd even heard him. "Indiana," he barked into the back of the van. "You need to let go." Again, it seemed she was too lost in grief to acknowledge him.

He cursed under his breath before climbing in the back of the van. His knees protested but he couldn't stand upright in the vehicle. He heard her move and when he looked up he saw her Colt pointed at him. She rubbed her fist over her teary eyes to clear them. Once again, he cursed. "Didn't your dad teach you not to point that at anyone you didn't intent on killing?" He didn't feel particularly worried about her accidentally firing in her current emotional state after all, he knew she never kept the damn thing loaded, or she hadn't when he'd really known her.

She stared at him and it seemed to take a few extra seconds for the words to click into place. Her aim moved just slightly to the right. "Go."

"No. Come on, you gotta let go," he insisted. She shook her head. He'd had a rough day and her disobedience had his temper flickering. He shifted forward only to be nearly deafened as she fired off a shot. He made a quick shift back and fell right out of the van and on his ass. His heart raced so fast it threatened to beat right out of his chest. He'd felt the bullet breeze by the side of his face and the shot being fired within the van left him with ringing ears.

"Hap!" Jax shouted worriedly as he started to run across the lot, the other guys right behind him.

Happy forced himself to his feet and ignored the tiny stones that had snuck into the wound in his side. Temper unleased, he stepped back up to the back of the van and slammed down his fist. "You fucking hellcat!" he roared at Indiana. "Are you out of your goddamn mind?"

"Hap," Jax grabbed Happy's arm before he could climb in the van. "Let her be," he said staring at the business end of a Colt which he guessed still had another five shots. "You need to get stitched up."

He turned to Jax and then back to Indiana, whose gun was pointed somewhere just over their heads. Her hand trembled and then steadied once again. Her glassy eyes stared at him and tears streamed silently down her face. For once in his life, his formidable strength and tenacious spirit wouldn't do him a damn bit of good. Not when she sat their broken, in need of sweet comfort and not the malicious vengeance he could provide.

"Hap," Tara said softly from behind Jax. "I'd really like to get you patched up. You're a little pale." Perhaps it was the softness or how she made the point of mentioning, however kindly, that he currently looked like death that made him relent.

He turned his attention to Jax. "Call Quinn. No one goes in that van to get her out. Everyone leaves her be until Quinn gets here. He will be able to deal with it without getting shot."

"She wouldn't really shoot anyone, she's a doll," Tig insisted. Polite and kind and completely out of place. Dull, he remembered Gemma using the word to describe her. The young grieving woman with a gun didn't fit in with his image of her.

Happy raised an eyebrow. "She's Rane Quinn's daughter. If you think she can't shoot, you're wrong. If you think she won't," he looked back at how she'd lowered the weapon and gently ran her hand through Mac's hair. In that state of mind, he wasn't sure what she was capable of. "We let Rane deal with this."

Since Happy had known the woman longest, Jax decided it best to follow his lead. Besides, he didn't want to piss off the former Nomad President. "I'll call Quinn."

"Good." Happy took one last look at Indiana before following Tara into the clubhouse.

::

The violence didn't sit well with Tara. She told herself that Jax was doing his best to move his club away from it all but every day came with the same fear. Moments like these, where she donned bloodstained surgical gloves, she doubted that the end of the carnage would ever come. She thought of the young man in the back of the van, it could have just as easily been her husband. It could have been her in the back sobbing over a man who'd ceased to be. It could have been her to have to tell their boys that their father would never be coming home.

She paused as she felt the emotions temporarily overwhelm her. She was set up in one of the dorm-styled rooms sitting on a low stool by the bed where Happy laid. He'd hadn't spoken a word to her and remained completely stoic through her picking gravel out of the wound. Wondering if he'd passed out, she glanced at his face to find his dark eyes fixated on a spot on the wall. "How are you doing, Happy?"

"Fine," he muttered.

"I have to clean the wound, it's going to sting."

"Do what you have to, Doc."

She nodded and returned to work.

::

Jax took a long drag off of his cigarette. He sat at the picnic table where he had a good view of both the street entrance and the van. He expected Indiana to come out on her own hours ago but she hadn't and every once in a while he'd hear her crying. There would be redemption. Blood needed to be spilt for the sake of their fallen brother. This time, they would not underestimate Kane or his friends.

A car pulled in and he stood to send it away only to get a good look at who sat behind the wheel. Ally Lowen stepped out in her formal attire and gave him a tense smile. "Lowen, do we have a problem?" he asked, trying not to take out his conflicting emotions on the club's lawyer.

She held her briefcase in both hands in front of her, almost like a shield. "Lee Toric."

"When it rains, it pours," he muttered. Keen observation skills and street smarts kept him alive and so he noticed when the woman kept checking over her shoulder and rubbing her wrists. She was nervous and in turn that made him nervous. "What happened?"

She stepped closer and spoke in a quiet voice. "Toric came to my home."

He cursed softly and checked her over. "You alright?"

"I'm furious," Ally responded. Tom Rosen had kept her company and made her feel safe until he needed to be in court. Once he was gone, she immediately drove herself to Teller-Morrow figuring she'd likely find Jax or one of the other club members there. "He came to my home and made threats. He wants me to back off."

"Are you?" he asked, a fair eyebrow raised. "Backing off?"

"No," she replied firmly. "I have an appointment later today with a friend of mind, Judge Diane Loretto. I'm hoping that at some point in her career she crossed paths with Toric's." She hated to ask, felt weak because of it. She sat a little straighter and turned to face Jax. "If I'm going to keep digging, I'm going to need the club's protection."

He closed his eyes for a second and thought out the best plan. "I'll send Phil and V-Lin with you. Let me know if you get anything out of this woman." If Toric went through the trouble to intimidate the club lawyer for looking into him, Jax feared what the man would do to his wife.

::

The pile of cigarette ends littering the ground continued to grow as Jax and Happy sat on the picnic table. The stitches pulled slightly on his side but the doctor had done a good job of stitching him up. Happy yearned for a drink but Tara had eyed him down and given him a lecture about how it thinned the blood. Deciding he'd rather take the pain than another lecture he'd let it go and gone out to wait for Quinn.

During the wait, Jax had briefed him about the situation with Lowen. Too many problems piling up at once and Happy knew that something had to give. If they didn't get on top of their problems, than things were going to get a hell of a lot bloodier.

The rumble of incoming motorcycles had both men standing. Happy stubbed out his latest cigarette and brushed a bit of ash off the clean shirt. His kutte was hung up in the bathroom where he'd washed the majority of the blood off of it.

Quinn's motorcycle pulled in and parked in the middle of the lot. "What the hell happened?" he shouted before he even had his helmet hung on the handle bars.

Jax made his way over to Quinn with Happy on his right. "We have a problem," Jax went on to briefly explain why they had problems with Kane and that they'd ended up with more than they'd bargained for.

The former Nomad dismounted his motorcycle while the new information still settled in. "Where is she?"

"Van," Happy replied.

Quinn didn't take time for niceties, just like he hadn't waited for the other three vehicles that would be joining him. His long stride took him over to the van quickly. The four hour drive to Charming had given him a lot of time to think but nothing prepared him for the sight of his youngest daughter crying over a bloodied corpse. He ran his hand over his face and tried to square his own emotions so that he could help her.

He started to climb into the van only to have his daughter pick up her gun and point it at him. His eyes narrowed at her. "Put that down."

"I'm not leaving him like this," she cried.

He let out a sigh. "I'm not asking you to."

The gun wavered as she sobbed but she didn't lower it. "He's dead, Daddy."

The grief in her voice had the power to tear his heart to shreds. "I know, my Little Anarchist."

Both of her hands went to her head and fear shot through him. He saw her do it a million times, push both hands through her hair when stressed but never with a gun in hand.

"I never got to make it right," she blubbered. "I'll never get to make it right. I could have been better. I should have been better."

He risked getting closer, frankly he'd prefer her pointing that gun at him again over her having it so close to her own skull while lost in her tremendous anguish. He put his hand over hers and she gave the gun up to him. She sobbed and leaned against him. He put the gun on the other side and booted it toward the door. He sat on the floor and pulled his daughter into his arms. "It okay, I've got you."

::

Another motorcycle pulled into Teller-Morrow, A Lincoln Navigator and a VW Tiguan following it. The three drivers met Happy and Jax in the middle of the lot where Quinn had parked his bike.

"Angus," Happy nodded his head in the other man's direction.

"Hey Hap," Angus looked ready to start a fight, the long drive hadn't cooled his emotions in the least. He'd prospected with Mac, they'd been best friends since they were fourteen years old. Now, Mac was gone. "You must be Jax," he said vaguely pointing in the direction of the patch on the SAMCRO President's kutte.

Jax sized up the other man who stood just under six feet, muscular stocky build, shaggy dark hair and calculating green eyes. Jax nodded. "I am."

"I assume you don't know the girls." Angus pointed out a petite woman who wore a black dress with spiky heels, her dark hair cut short and accentuating her bright blue eyes. "That's Tink," he half-assed introduced. "She's Quinn's Old Lady." He pointed to a taller woman who dressed professionally, her dark blue eyes glistened with tears, choppy dark brown hair hung around her youthful face. "That's Emily, she's with me."

The women stepped up. Emily immediately went to Angus. Tink however ignored Jax and looked at the man she did know, Happy. "Where's Rane?"

"He's with Indiana," Happy replied.

"Mac is in the van," Jax clarified. "Indiana won't come out."

Tink took a deep breath. She knew that her husband had wanted to talk to his daughter first, she just hadn't expected him to break every single speed limit from Red Willow to Charming in order to do it. "Rane will bring her," she told the SAMCRO President with confidence.

::

Quinn held his daughter tightly as she let out her grief. He would have done anything to protect his little girl from this kind of heartbreak but he'd learned long ago that some things were completely beyond his control. The sobs had become less frequent and he figured she couldn't keep the crying jag up much longer, she would either pull herself together or fall asleep.

She sniffled and swiped a hand along her cheeks trying to wipe away the worst of the tears. "Dad?" her voice weak and raspy from crying for so long.

"I'm here," he replied, running his hand over her long blonde hair.

"What happens now?"

He looked down at her to see tear streaks on her distraught face, her eyes puffy, red and painfully lost. He held her tighter wishing that he could free her of this pain. "Jax told me what led to… this." The club had been taking care of illegal business. They'd gone in and ended up shot up and likely left a few bodies in the process. They couldn't advertise this and that made it so much harder to tell his daughter. "He was taking care of club business. We can't draw attention-" and he knew she understood just what he was saying when she broke down yet again. "There can't be a funeral." Her breaths were choppy as she tried to suck in air and hold it long enough to kill the sobs. He felt her nod against his shoulder. "Come on, baby, your mom is here. So is Emily and Angus," he knew his daughter well enough to play her own personality to his advantage. "They need you strong, okay?"

She nodded and pulled away from him so she could wipe both hands over her face trying to rid the evidence of her grief. She looked over at Mac and ran her hand over his hair before she kissed his forehead. "Goodbye, Mac," she whispered.

::

Jax, Happy, Tink, Angus and Emily stood near the van and waited as they heard movement for the first time. First Quinn climbed out and reached back in to offer his daughter a hand. She kicked her bag out before she took the offered hand and jumped out of the van. She landed unsteadily and her father gripped her shoulders. She pulled back, sniffled and turned around to grab her pearl handled Colt. She stared inside for a second before she shut the van doors and leaned heavily on them.

Quinn looked at Tink and nodded his head in Indiana's direction. The petite woman nodded and went to her daughter. Placing a hand on the young woman's back, Tink could feel the tension. Indiana looked over at her and she was surprised by the hardened expression on her daughter's face.

Indiana turned around and looked at Jax. "You don't bury him, he wanted to be cremated."

As if Jax didn't have enough to deal with, he suppressed his urge to tell her not to interfere in club business but he figured he'd need points with Quinn. He didn't relish going to see Skeeter, but at least it wouldn't be a terribly difficult task, plus there wouldn't be the digging involved for burial. "Alright, I'll make that happen."

Indiana nodded and took a deep breath. She turned her big blue eyes on Happy. "Did you see who killed him?" She felt Tink's hand on her arm, rubbing slowly up and down. She tried to ignore the comfort that had her walls breaking back down again.

Happy felt the knife in his heart twist a little more. She had such open trust in her eyes when she looked at him and he couldn't bear it. He nodded. "The guy was aiming for me. Mac stepped in the way."

She stared blankly for a moment, the words had knocked the wind out of her. "He-" she shook her head. She couldn't figure out what to do with the information. She hated herself for feeling a brief moment of relief, just as she had when she saw Happy walk through the door. She didn't look for Mac, not until Happy told her that he was dead. She'd looked for Happy, worried over Happy and now felt so painfully grateful that Happy hadn't been fatally shot- even when it cost her Mac. Guilt whispered nasty things in her ears and she fought for composure. She took in a shaky breath and closed the space between her and Happy.

The tension in the air rose as everyone waited to see what Indiana would do. Happy expected to get hit, or have her start screaming or crying, anything but what actually happened. She checked to ensure the safety was on before she shoved her gun against Happy's chest. "You put three in that son of a bitch for me."

"Indie," Quinn's voice a low warning.

Indiana just stared at Happy until he nodded. She nodded in return before she walked briskly past him.

"Angus," Emily put out her hand but kept her eyes glued on Indiana. "Gimme your gun."

"What? No!" Angus looked at her incredulously.

"She's going to run," Emily insisted. "Better I'm with her with a weapon than she's off alone in this state."

"She can't possibly run after, oh fuck," Angus shook his head as he watched Indiana's gait go from walk, to jog and into a sprint. He pulled his gun and put it in his Old Lady's hand. Emily kissed his cheek and turned to run after her friend. Angus watched for a moment and sighed. There would be a lot of pain going around for a while and he had the feeling that things would get worse before they got better. He turned to Quinn. "You want me to tail them?"

Quinn considered for a moment before he shook his head. "She'll run herself into the ground if you follow. She'll wait for Em to catch up. Your girl has her phone, right?"

"Always."

"Jax, call together your guys," Quinn ordered. "I want to be filled in on everything."


	28. Next Step

"This might be the best burger I've ever had," Kerrianne said between bites. It might have helped that she was famished but it was pretty good quality for ten at night.

"We didn't walk far for it," Trinity admitted. She and Juice had been chosen for food duty. Originally, Juice was going to go on his own but without knowing the area or who or what to avoid they all thought it too dangerous. She'd gone with him to help him avoid the rough parts that the apartment stood on the edge of. "It's kinda cold out so I just went to the first place that was open."

"Well, it's still delicious," Kerrianne replied before she washed down the burger with a gulp of the extra-large Coke. She looked over at her fair haired friend to find Trinity pushing a salad around with a plastic fork but it remained relatively untouched. Kerrianne worried about Trinity, she knew what it was like to constantly worry over her father, an ocean separating them. This was worse. They knew that something bad had happened to Maureen. She didn't know how to approach the topic and so she took an onion ring from one of the family sized boxes of food. "How are we getting out of here?" she asked. The question had lingered in the back of her mind, but she'd been so happy to have her family around her that she'd ignored it for as long as possible.

Chibs held up one finger as he finished chewing a large bite of the delicious burger loaded with all his favourite condiments. He wouldn't thank Juice for remembering, it felt too girly, but he appreciated it none the less. "There is a plane."

"You got a plane!" Kerrianne looked at him wide-eyed. "How did SAMCRO spring for that?"

"We didn't 'spring' for it," Chibs replied. "We now owe a very rich man in the community." He shot a look at Juice. "Some more than others."

Juice hooked his finger through two onion rings and shrugged. "It got us here, didn't it?"

"What are you two talking about?" Fiona asked. She occasionally got annoyed when her husband was around his friends. They could have entire conversations that she couldn't follow because they were all vague references.

Chibs frowned. "Let's just say this guy didn't _want_ to help us."

Fiona's eyes narrowed at her husband. She blew out a breath and reached to grab a couple of fries. "You intimidated the man." She understood the necessity in their kind of life, she couldn't claim innocence herself but she didn't like it.

"More or less," Chibs muttered, averting his guilty eyes to the wall.

Fiona's dark eyes turned to Juice who was happily eating his burger. "What did you break?" she guessed.

"A vase," he replied with his mouth full.

"Manners," Kerrianne scolded and swatted him on the back of the head causing him to momentarily choke. He beat his fist against his chest and coughed. She grimaced and he shot her a dirty look. "Sorry about that." He gave her a small grin to let her know she was forgiven.

"And you're sure this guy isn't going to leave us high and dry after your vase breaking stunt?" Fiona asked.

"I'm sure. Oswald is a good man. He has a family. He doesn't want the club paying visits to him because he welched on a deal," Chibs assured. "The plane will be at a small private airstrip. It's nothing comfortable, it's a cargo plane but we don't have to have passports or go through security. We still have to wait it out. We have a full day tomorrow and we'll catch the plane the next night."

A shiver ran down Trinity's spine. She felt like an entity outside of the unit. She pushed around her salad as her emotions boiled. "What about my ma?" she asked unable to tear her eyes away from her dinner. Healthy eating, a habit and yet what was really the point when she could be shot and killed tomorrow. _Just like Cherry._

"I've been thinking about that," Chibs replied. Dread settled in his stomach knowing how well the plan would be received. "We have to assume that the IRA bastards have Mo. Our only play is SAMBEL, which considering it got blown all to hell by those mick bastards, they might be sympathetic to our plight." He paused to eat an onion ring. "That's why after you're all safe on the plane I'll go and talk to the SAMBEL president."

"Fuck that," Fiona snapped. "You're not just staying here!"

"Fi," he warned. His dark eyes turned to Trinity who looked so young and lost. He imagined Kerrianne in her position. How could he walk away?

"I'll stay with you, Chibs," Juice insisted. "You're going to need all the help you can get."

"Shut it, Juice!" Fiona hissed at him. "Juice can take the girls on the plane. If you're staying, I'm staying!"

"It's too dangerous!" Chibs argued.

"It's too dangerous for you too!"

"So you just want me to walk away from her?"

The salad flying across the room got everyone's attention. Trinity stood, her small frame vibrating with rage. "This is my mother we're talking about. She held those men off so Kerri and I could escape. I'm not leaving without her."

Chibs stood. "Trinity."

"Don't!" she shouted as tears welled in her eyes. "She's all I have! I can't leave her here!"

"You still have your half-brother," Chibs said softly. He laid a comforting hand on the young woman's shoulder. "Jax is waiting for you."

Trinity took a step back. "I hardly know him," she argued. "And that doesn't change the fact that this is my ma we're talking about, she's my family." Her grey-blue eyes pinned Chibs to the spot, he found a bit of JT in there but the strength was all her own. "What would you do for your family?" The question lingered in the air, leaving the Telford-Larkin family distinctly uncomfortable. The answer, of course, was anything. "I'm staying."

"I'm not letting you do this alone, Filip," Fiona said softly. "I'll stay."

"No, no, Fi."

"She called me. Mo did," Fiona told him evenly. "She held off those IRA men for our girls and called to warn me. She begged me to take care of Trinity." Her dark eyes went to the young woman in question. "Which is what I'm going to do. Trinity. You're getting on that plane with Kerrianne and Juice. Filip and I will find Maureen and bring her back with us."

Trinity turned away from the family and looked at the salad strewn upon the ground. She held her emotions together, just barely. "Okay," she whispered. The fight drained out of her and she felt as though she would fall apart.

Fiona let out a sigh and walked over to her friend's daughter. "Come on, Trinity. Let's get you to bed, yeah?" The young woman nodded feebly and walked with Fiona down the hall.

::

The mess of wrappers and boxes from the take-out place were cleaned but the scent of burgers and onion rings still lingered. Juice ran his hand over his face trying to stay awake. His body still hadn't gotten used to the time difference. He looked over as Chibs sat back down on the couch. Fiona had coxed Kerrianne and Trinity to bed and had yet to return herself. "What's the plan?" Juice whispered. "I doubt you really intend on letting Fiona stay."

"Fi does whatever she wants, whenever she wants," Chibs replied unable to hide the bitterness. He couldn't do what needed to be done with his wife around. He'd be always worried about her well-being first, the task second. "I'll convince her to get on that plane."

"Once we get them to the plane, I should stay," Juice once again insisted. "You're going to need help. What if SAMBEL isn't up to it? There are guys still missing, a few injured, a lot dead."

"I need to know my girls are in safe hands. That no harm will come to them. That they'll be taken care of when they get to Charming," Chibs said softly. He looked down at his hands. "I'm trusting you with my girls, Juice. Do you understand that?"

He did. The weight didn't crush him though, instead it liberated him. "I understand. I know I've fucked up before but I'd give my life for them. Whatever it takes to keep them safe, I promise."

And Chibs knew that. He knew it deep down from the moment Juice had held a gun to Tristian's head. While it made him feel rather assured that his family would be taken care of, it still left him slightly unsettled.

::

Chibs groaned as he slipped under the covers and curled up to his wife. They'd gotten one room, Kerrianne and Trinity shared the other and Juice got the couch. He inhaled the scent of his wife and pulled her closer. "I've missed this," he whispered. They had spent so much time apart that every second felt all the more important, each moment felt that much more special.

His breath against her neck made Fiona shiver. His arms around her made her feel safe and loved. "Me too," she whispered. "I hate being away from you."

The house had a draft but they felt warm and happy in each other's arms. "Life in Ireland is over, you know that, right?" he whispered to her. His daughter loved her home country but he knew that Fiona's fear had started to push her love into hate.

"I know. Kerrianne will adjust." She always worried about her daughter's wellbeing first. Still, she felt like a failure for every minute she subjected their lives to Jimmy. Times had been complicated for everyone involved. Jimmy had gotten her Filip expelled from the IRA, and being patched for a short time in SAMBEL only hurt the SOA-IRA ties. She and Jimmy had been friends. Once. Long ago. He could be charming, when he wanted to be. Her family ties kept her in Ireland when Filip made the move to California. She couldn't abandon her ailing father. Jimmy helped her, her family ties helped him rise in the ranks and he helped to keep her under IRA protection. She'd never loved Jimmy but he'd kept her comfortable. For a while. After her father passed away the protection she and her daughter needed became the very cage that threatened to destroy them. "This will be good for all of us." She turned in his arms to face him in the darkness. "Well figure out the finer points of how to get to Maureen in the morning. For now, let's just enjoy our time together," she whispered enticingly. Her lips brushed lightly against his in invitation, one he always accepted.

::

In the early afternoon, in Charming, most of the SAMCRO men sat around the redwood table. V-Lin and Phil were the exceptions since they were watching over Lowen. They welcomed both Quinn and Angus to their table and tried to get them caught up. Jax told the two men about Diosa and the stolen money. He told them about Oliver Kane threatening and shooting up the house Lyla lived in with her son and two step-children. He told them about the retaliation that had ended in the death of Mac. He told them about Ally Lowen, their club lawyer, and the fact that she was attacked in her own home by Lee Toric. He told the table the latest about SAMBEL, the death toll had gone up to ten, and one member was still unaccounted for. There were four members and a prospect still breathing.

"Jesus Christ!" Angus ran his hand over his face. "Anything else?"

"I got something else," Quinn said.

"Oh fuck," Angus muttered.

"This guy came into Sanctuary last night when Tink was alone," Quinn started. He kept his rage locked down but it was there, just waiting to get out. "Wanted her to pass along a message. 'Sons of Anarchy; they're going to pay and they're going to grieve.'" He paused as the men absorbed this latest problem. He watched the faces around him. Jax and Happy were stone, Tig and Angus were both infuriated, Bobby looked pensive, and Ratboy looked over-eager to fuck something up- new patch, he guessed.

"They're not just threatening us," Bobby said slowly. "But those close to us as well."

"Why the hell would they go to Tink?" Angus wondered.

"She figures it's because she was alone," Quinn replied. "An easy target." It enraged him to think of her that way. To have heard her the thought from her own lips. _Alone. Easy target_. He was her Old Man. She should have been safe in his goddamned bar, but she hadn't been. She'd ended up alone and hurt and scared. "Sends a good message coming through my wife. Just how easily accessible those in our lives are."

"Lockdown?" Tig asked turning his eyes toward Jax.

"We don't know who this guy is," Quinn said. "Lockdown would be indefinite. We wouldn't be able to maintain it."

"What did this guy look like?" Jax asked.

Quinn shrugged. "Tink said he wore a suit so she figured he wasn't from town. Red Willow's small, mostly blue collar kind of jobs. She was pretty shaken up, didn't feel confident in her ability to give an accurate description."

"Could this just be a Nomad problem?" Bobby questioned.

"He didn't say Nomads are going to pay, he said the Sons were," Quinn argued. "If you're going to threaten someone, it pays to be specific. This guy was a messenger though so," he shrugged, "have we pissed off a club of white guys lately? Do we still have beef with the Nords?"

"Na, Darby retired. Anyone left over from his crew moved further north," Tig replied. "We haven't even brushed paths in a while."

"I want to patch Redwood," Quinn announced suddenly. Jax raised his eyebrows in surprise and Quinn felt the need to explain. "You need the bodies, I want to find this guy and I want Tink somewhere safe. Besides, my daughter is here, square in the middle of a club problem." He looked down at the rings on his hands. "And now Mac is gone…" He looked across the table to Jax. "I need to be here."

"Get the paperwork," Jax replied looking around the table which had a feel of excitement for the former Nomad President to be joining the SAMCRO ranks. "I'm sure you won't have a problem getting your seat."

"We'd welcome you, brother," Happy spoke up for the first time since Church had been called.

Quinn nodded. "Thank you."

Angus sat back in his chair. He tried to weigh his loyalty to the man who brought him into the club with that of his woman who had a job and a life in Red Willow. "I need to be here too," Angus finally said. Mac had been his best friend since they were mischievous teenage boys. "For Mac."

The men at the table understood the loss of a brother so close and there were a few accepting nods. Jax gave his own approving nod. "Paperwork."

"I'll have it," Angus replied.

::

"Indie. In-die, Je-sus. Stop!" Emily panted as she raced after Indiana on a densely wooded path. She ran track in university with Indiana although she hadn't kept up with it as well as her friend had since, that along with the taking up of cigarettes had her trailing behind. Her foot got snagged under a root which caused her to tumble to the ground, the air completely evacuated her lungs. She laid still for a second until she managed to suck in a gasp of air. She groaned and rolled onto her back to find Indiana over her. The other woman had her hands on her knees, trying to get back her own breath.

"You okay?" Indiana asked. She dropped down to her knees by Emily's head. She brushed away her own tears trying to see clearly. "Did you hurt your ankle?"

Emily shook her head and wiped some sweat from her brow. "I'm okay, just a couple little cuts from falling," she breathed heavily through her answer. She glanced at her palms which had a bunch of little nicks. She hadn't been dressed for a run and looked down at her new black trousers which now had a monstrous tear in the right leg. She sighed. "These make my ass look fantastic and now they are ruined."

Despite herself, Indiana smiled a little. The shade along with the gentle breeze was more than welcome to both women. "How's your leg feel?"

Emily raised the injured leg and winced. She brought her knee closer to her chest and stretched it back out again. "Won't be running for a while," she admitted. "But I've done a hell of a lot worse." She sat up and took a look at their surroundings. "This kind of looks like Red Willow."

Indiana dropped back onto her butt and put her head in her hands. Her grief and guilt tag-teamed her into submission. She didn't know how to deal with losing Mac. She didn't know how to deal with the guilt that came with having looked for Happy first, worried over him, that Mac had been an afterthought. "Tell me how to handle this Em," she whispered, despite the fact that she had not admitted to half of her problem. "I'll do it, I can do it, just tell me how."

Grief hung over the two friends. Emily hurriedly put her arms around Indiana's shaking form. "Sweetie, you know I can't tell you how to handle this." Her voice shook under the weight of her own grief. "But I'm here for you. Whenever you need me, for as long as you need me, you know that right?" She felt Indiana nod against her shoulder. "You should talk about it- when you're ready," she tacked on quickly. "One day it will get easier, but I can't tell you how to grieve. Look through pictures, remember him fondly." Each of her words only seemed to upset her friend more and so she remained silent and held Indiana tightly. Her own tears burned her eyes, both women cried for the man in their lives that they had lost as they held tightly to one another.

::

Quinn smoked his fifth cigarette since church had ended with a gavel bang. He'd already contacted the Tacoma president who promised the vote for release and paperwork would be done tonight, confirmation sent to Charming by mid-afternoon tomorrow. He reflected on all the problems Charming currently had. The thought of his daughter being in the middle of it all sent a cold chill down his spine despite the heat. He'd spent the past twenty-seven years protecting her, raising her, loving her. Having her in danger, and danger because of the club left him very uneasy.

He took a long drag off of his cigarette and watched as Happy walked across the parking lot. "They come back yet?"

"No," Quinn replied. "You alright?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Happy asked in return before he found his own pack of cigarettes.

"Mac took a couple of bullets for you. That shit can mess anyone up."

"I'm fine."

"Alright." Quinn knew better than to push Happy. Besides, the man was intimate with death, if anyone could get past watching a brother die for you, it would likely be Happy. Not that it wouldn't take a while, not that it wouldn't nag- Quinn knew it would, but Happy would push past it. "How has she been?"

"Indie?"

"Yeah."

"Fine," Happy replied. Quinn shot him a curious look that encouraged more than a one word answer. He pulled out a lighter that he was pretty sure was actually Tig's and lit his cigarette. "She's a hard worker. She's gone above and beyond for the club and for Diosa. Her information sent us in the wrong direction. We still have nothing and the club is hardly staying afloat."

Quinn nodded. Of course his girl had made good to find the money. A false start wouldn't stop her either. "She'll figure it out."

Happy nodded. He had no doubt about that. He just worried that at the moment with everything going on, if Charming was the safest place for her to be. He couldn't voice the concern but he bet that Quinn echoed the same worry.

::

With Emily's arm draped over her shoulder, Indiana continued to walk beside her friend. "You know, I've missed this," Emily said suddenly. Indiana shot her a questioning look. "Me and you," she elaborated. "Not the walking around like a gimp, been there, done that. Red Willow hasn't been the same since you left."

"I've missed you too," Indiana replied softly. Her throat hurt and her eyes stung from all the crying she's done. Numbness settled over the raw emotions in an involuntary act of self-preservation.

They walked the rest of the way to the garage in silence. Indiana saw some of the guys around, a few actually working within the garage. Her dad sat beside Happy on a picnic table which she started to lead Emily over to.

"Jesus!" Quinn dropped his cigarette and snuffed it under his boot. He walked over to Emily and took a hold of her elbow to help guide her to the picnic table. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I just tripped. I'm good," Emily replied. "Just stings a little." Angus came out of the clubhouse with a beer only to find his Old Lady surrounded by Indiana, Quinn and Happy. Before he could get out a word, Emily looked at him and smiled. "I'm fine but would you care to help me inside."

"Of course, Babe," he said walking over to them. He put his arm around Indiana first and kissed her cheek. "You need me, I'm here." Indiana managed a tight smile and a nod. Angus pulled Emily's arm over his shoulder and put his arm under her knees.

"I can walk," Emily protested meekly.

Angus just shot her a smile and lifted her. "Afraid I'll drop you?"

She rested her head against his chest. "No."

Indiana watched her two friends go into the clubhouse and felt detached to the entire moment. She turned back to her father and Happy, her attention then drifted to her car across the lot.

Quinn frowned at the lost expression upon his daughter's face. He worried greatly about her emotional state. "I want you to stay at the clubhouse tonight." He knew that she wouldn't like it, but it would ease his mind to have her close and under the protection of his brothers.

"Okay," she replied softly.

"Okay?" Quinn repeated. He had expected a fight and it bothered him that his spirited daughter hadn't disputed the order.

She sat down at the picnic table, the opposite side to Happy with her back faced to him. "Figure out which room and let me know."

Happy and Quinn exchanged surprised glances. "I'll talk to Jax," Happy said. He'd rather deal with the club president than with Indiana in this state. Quinn nodded in wordless thanks. Happy couldn't shake the image of Indiana's lost eyes as he walked across the lot in search of the President.


	29. Promises

There is a certain confidence that comes with having an entourage of bikers tailing your vehicle. The thunderous growl threatening everyone around, announcing their presence and creating fear. Ally Lowen’s compact car didn’t make such noises but V-Lin and Phil’s bikes behind her did. Having the Sons as company made her feel much more secure and yet she still felt entirely on edge. Something had to be done about Lee Toric.

 

She parked her car and took a deep breath. With her briefcase in hand she exited the vehicle. The wind brought the scent from the flowerbed over and the place seemed a serene location to just relax for a moment. She had never been one to stop and smell the roses, and with so much on the line she’d be damned if she stopped now. Her long strides took her across the lot and into the restaurant.

 

The fresh-faced young woman behind the counter smiled. “Hello, table for one?”

 

“No, I’m meeting someone,” Ally replied as she looked around. “Diane Loretto, she made reservations. Is she here yet?”

 

The woman looked at the book and nodded. “Yes, Ms. Loretto is right this way.” The woman grabbed a second menu and led the way to a quiet booth by the window.

 

Diane was pushing fifty had her phone to her ear and raised her finger in the universal ‘one minute’ signal. The waitress took it as dismissal and left. Ally nodded and took her seat across from the judge. To pass the time she flipped through the options on the menu. She thought the pasta looked exceptional but her fear of the scale made her settle for the grilled chicken salad with the dressing on the side.

 

“Sorry about that,” Diane said as she returned her phone to her purse. “Some things can’t be avoided.”

 

“Yeah, I know a little something about that,” Ally admitted.

 

The two women played the polite catch-up game until the waitress returned and they were able to order. While their meals were being prepared they knew they would have more time to talk without being interrupted.

 

“So, Ally, what is this about?”

 

“I was wondering if you’ve ever met a US Marshall, or ex-US Marshal now, Lee Toric.”

 

Diane sat a little straighter. “Lee Toric,” the name came almost fearfully off of the judge’s tongue. “Why do you want to know about him?”

 

“As you know, I’m the primary lawyer for the Redwood Charter of the Sons of Anarchy MC,” Ally begun to explain.

 

“Toric is retired,” Diane interrupted. “Why would he be interested in the Sons?”

 

Ally leaned in slightly and lowered her voice. “Tara Knowles, a doctor and wife of the club President was treating the man who killed Pamela Toric, Lee Toric’s sister. He was a club member, she was in the room.”

 

Diane rubbed her temples. “I don’t need to know more than that.” She didn’t want a better view into the MC. She had presided over a few cases of SOA members before and didn’t want anything outside of the courtroom to colour her views. “I take it that Mr Toric didn’t take that death well.”

 

“No, he didn’t,” Ally replied pulling up the sleeves of her shirt to show the bruises on her wrists.

 

Diane’s blue eyes stood out against her grey streaked dark brown hair. Her eyes held sympathy and concern. “His track record for bringing in fugitives was exceptional but he had a history of using excessive force. Still, he was respected among the Marshals and thus instead of receiving a dishonourable discharge he was pushed into retirement by the Director of US Marshal Service so he could maintain his benefits.” She sat up straight and managed a polite smile as the waitress returned with their meals. Her steak and potatoes smelt heavenly and she shook her head at the sight of some miniscule grilled chicken breast on a bed of leaves that sat in front of her companion.

 

Ally used the salad dressing sparingly and picked up her knife to cut the chicken into bite sized portions. “How excessive?”

 

“Started with bumped heads, consistent with having your head shoved into the car when you’re trying to get in. Moved up to full on beatings. One man _escaped_ his care,” she said the word with disbelief. “He was never found.”

 

“Was that the incident that had the agency pushing for retirement?” Ally inquired.

 

“It contributed, added with everything else the Marshals had to do something,” Diane replied. “You said a prisoner murdered his sister, right?”  Ally stabbed her salad and nodded. “Maybe you should talk to the prisoner.”

 

Ally stared longingly at the steak on Diane’s plate before she looked up at the woman. “I’ll try to get visitation.

 

“You shouldn’t have any problem, you are the club lawyer.”

 

“I’m not Otto’s though. He went to prison before I started working for the Sons. From what I hear, he didn’t get along with Rosen, or any other lawyer for that matter. He wanted a public defender and so that is what he has.” Ally sighed. “And talking to him might be difficult. He bit off his tongue.”

 

Diane grimaced and her fork hovered halfway to her mouth for a second. “He bit off his tongue?”

 

Ally chewed on her salad and shrugged. She washed down the bland food with a sip of water. “That’s what I hear.”

 

“If Toric’s history of brutality stands, you might be able to get more information out of that inmate than anyone else.”

 

Ally nodded and put down her fork with a sudden surge of urgency. “Thank you, Diane.” She pulled her wallet out and put down enough to cover both of their meals and tip. “I need to get to the prison before visitation hours end.”

 

Diane gave a curt nod of her head and watched as the other woman hurried out with briefcase in hand. “Good luck, Ally.”

 

::

 

Nomad. The word defined him long before he wore its patch. Quinn still kept it, the patch, tucked into the pocket of his kutte. Despite the fact that the Nomads had been disbanded, that they had scattered to different charters he held onto the hope that once things got cleaned up the Nomad charter would be rebooted. For now, he had more pressing issues.

 

Jax had told them there were four rooms at the clubhouse. Mac’s belongings were still in one and when Quinn tried to put his daughter in one of the empty rooms she just asked to stay where Mac had. He didn’t like it, he didn’t think it was best for her. She looked so lost but this was one issue in which she politely requested and when he denied her, she’d become only more stubborn about it. Eventually, he relented, perhaps she needed to feel close to say goodbye.

 

Rane Quinn couldn’t claim to be the world’s best father and in all his years he’d never had a situation quite like this. He had no idea how to deal with it. He couldn’t combat the depression that hung over his daughter, he didn’t know what to say or how to make it better, or even if he could. So, he focused on what he could handle.

 

A large duffle bag had been hastily packed by Tink for both him and her. He pulled out an extra set of clothes and shoved them into a smaller bag that he could tuck into his saddle bag. When the door opened, he stood up straight and looked over. He’d half expected his daughter. Indiana had always been a ‘daddy’s girl,’ but somewhere along the way, she’d grown up and had become a self-sufficient woman. Instead of his daughter, his wife stood in the doorway.

 

Tink stepped into the room and shut the door behind herself. Out of habit, she locked it before she crossed the room. She paused at the foot of the bed and looked at the small bag he packed. “You’re leaving.”

 

Her words came out a cross between a question and an accusation. What she didn’t sound, was surprised. Quinn extended his hand and she reached out to take it. He gave a slight pull and she stepped closer. “We need more bodies. I can do the run, get the paperwork for release for both myself and Angus.” He pulled her a little bit closer. “I don’t want Dax to hear about this over the phone. He sponsored Mac. They were close.”

 

Tink stared up at her husband. “You’re not riding alone.”

 

Not a question but a statement, bordering on an order. Quinn raised an eyebrow. “No. You’re coming with me.” Her eyebrows shot up. Definitely not the answer she had expected. Her mouth opened just slightly but she couldn’t form a single word. She stared at her husband completely bewildered. He pulled her right up against him and gripped her hips. He’d been terrified when he’d returned to Sanctuary to find the closed sign, his wife drinking straight from the bottle with the tears in her eyes.  He hadn’t been there when she had needed him and he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her alone and vulnerable. “I need you with me.”

 

The sigh she let out carried his name. He threaded his fingers through her short hair and laid his lips upon hers. Her defensive posture melted into complete submission but as always, she gave as good as she got. She kissed him with great urgency regardless the darkness of the day, or perhaps in spite of it. She didn’t tease, she just immediately tugged at his shirt in desperation for skin to skin contact. That frantic need seemed to be contagious and their clothing ended up mingled on the floor.

 

He lowered her to the bed. They both needed this respite. Their words could wait. The situation could wait. He held her close and with their joining they both regained the balance the world had robbed them of.

 

::

 

No one likes having to admit their own personal failure but failure was what brought Jax and Bobby up to the cabin. They parked their bikes but before they could even dismount, the door opened and Kenny raced out. “Jax!” the young boy shouted. “Hey!”

 

“Hey yourself,” Jax replied as he got off his bike. He couldn’t believe how much taller Opie’s son had grown since the last time he’d laid eyes on the kid. “Is Lyla inside?”

 

“Yeah. She’s making dinner,” Kenny replied.

 

The door opened and Primo stepped out with gun in hand. Upon seeing the two Sons, he tucked the firearm back into the back of his pants. “Kenny, get washed up,” Primo ordered. “Dinner is almost done.”

 

Kenny turned away from Primo to stare up at Jax. It was eerie how much the kid looked like his father and it tore Jax up inside. “Are you going to stay a bit?”

 

“Yeah, a little while,” Jax admitted.

 

Kenny immediately smiled. “Cool!” He then rushed off back into the house. 

 

Jax and Bobby followed behind Kenny and greeted the Byz-Lat. Primo frowned the usual cocky arrogance that Jax carried himself with appeared to be all together missing and that worried him. He put his arm out to block the entrance to the cabin. “What happened?” he demanded, his voice low but neutral.

 

“Kane had friends,” Bobby replied quietly and before Primo could say anything, he continued. “We lost one of ours.”

 

Primo absorbed the new information. He shook his head. “Shit. Sorry about your man.” His arm remained blocking the entrance and he struggled to find the right words. While Primo ranked highly in the Byz-Lats’s hierarchy he wasn’t known for his riveting speeches. “She’s scared,” he told them as he let his arm lower. “Try not to freak her out any more than she already is.”

 

Failure, guilt and self-loathing hit Jax. Those who fell under the protection of the club should be safe. The fact that Lyla lived in constant danger left him feeling like he’d broken a promise to Opie, his brother, his best friend, the man who gave his life for him and for the club. He found it to be completely unacceptable. “We will set this right,” he proclaimed.

 

“The sooner the better,” Primo muttered as he led them into the house. “Lyla, Jax and Bobby are here.”

 

Lyla came around the corner wearing an apron over a lovely powder blue dress. “Jax, Bobby, good to see you both. Are you guys staying for dinner? I know it’s a little early but Kenny has a soccer game and I have to get Ellie to the library for a research report.”

 

Flustered, rushed, tired, Jax frowned. She refused to take momentary help from the club even when Jax insisted. She wanted to stand on her own two feet but didn’t she realize that now she had two kids that weren’t even biologically hers to take care of and only her one income? He wanted to help but also understood the need to do something on your own. “No,” he replied. “We’ll stick around but I’m going to try to be home with Tara and the kids for dinner tonight.”

  
Lyla smiled and it made her appear young and vibrant once again. “That’s good. Family is important.”

 

“You sound like my mother,” Jax groaned making Lyla laugh.

 

“Sometimes Gemma is right,” she told him, pointing a wooden spoon in his direction. “So what brings you two out here?”

 

Jax and Bobby exchanged a nervous glace before Jax returned his attention to Lyla. He hadn’t missed how Primo had taken a step closer to Lyla. “We went to see Kane today. It didn’t go as planned.”

 

“All clean!” Kenny said coming in with Piper. “I helped him with the booster stool so he could wash his hands too.”

 

Lyla felt panic rising and it became lodged in her throat. She could read between the lines, the body language and glances Bobby and Jax kept sharing. She managed to tear her eyes away from the Sons and turned to her two young boys. Kenny looked proud and Piper looked nervous. She managed a small smile. “Very good Kenny, thank you for helping Piper. Could the two of you go get Ellie? She’s reading in the back yard.”

 

“Okay,” Kenny replied. “Come on, Piper.” The quiet blond boy shot one more glance at the intimidating bikers before he trailed behind Kenny.

 

Lyla waited until she heard the back door open and close. “Is everyone whole?”

 

“Mac, a recent transfer died,” Jax admitted softly.

 

A small sob escaped Lyla’s lips. Her problems had harmed those around her. She didn’t know that particular Son but it didn’t lessen the pain. Her former addiction, her old debt had put her and the children into the dangerous position, had forced her to go to Jax for help. Because of her, a man was dead. A strong hand grasped her shoulder and squeezed. She looked over at Primo, tears glistening in her eyelashes. She had the strong and sudden urge to hug him, to have him hold her, to give into weakness and sob. The door once again opened and she stood a little straighter, she sniffled and looked around to find a tissue. She settled for a piece of rough paper towel and quickly wiped away her tears and shut down her emotions- a skill she’d learned long ago. She found it much easier to perform in porn when she felt nothing at all. That need to stop feeling was what had led her to the drugs in the first place.

 

The boys returned with Ellie who looked at Lyla curiously. “Are you crying?”

 

“Oh, no,” Lyla forced a small smile. “I just sneezed a few times in a row and it made my eyes water.”

 

Ellie raised an eyebrow but shrugged. “What’s for dinner?” 

 

::

 

The small adjoining bathroom had the essential toilet, sink and shower. The cubical shower unit Quinn and Tink shared only had the space to fit one person comfortably. Quinn’s shoulder kept bumping against the glass or the tile and he was always pressed up against his much shorter wife. “Did you mean what you said?” she asked as she rinsed off the suds from the front of her body.

 

“I rarely don’t mean what I say,” he replied.

 

“What about Indiana?”

 

“Emily is here and when she’s ready to talk, that’s who she will go to. I’ve talked to Jax and he promised that a member of SAMCRO will be here around the clock, so she will physically be protected. I don’t really know what else I can do for her right now,” he admitted. “The only thing I can do is get the transfer and try to recruit more members to SAMCRO.”

 

Tink turned around and tilted her head back to rinse the shampoo from her hair. Quinn’s eyes followed a trickle of water down between her breasts. “I still don’t like the idea of riding alone. We should bring Angus with us.” Before Quinn could protest, she continued. “I’d feel more secure on the road riding with someone else and Indiana would be more likely to go to Emily if she knows that she’s alone.”

 

If it made her feel safe again, he’d do just about anything. “If that’s what you want.”

 

She smiled up at him and rested her head against his chest. “I love you, Rane.”

 

::

 

“This one is Piper’s,” Kenny informed Jax and Bobby, holding up the toy monster truck. “It’s pretty cool and he’s good at sharing.” The boy in question sat on the ground with a colouring book he looked over at the mention of his name. “I got a new comic book,” Kenny continued. “It’s about _Superman_. He isn’t my favourite,” the boy admitted. “But I’m at this part where there is a really cool battle and he’s flying and he’s shooting lasers out of his eyes like _Cyclops_ from the _X-men_!”

 

“Very cool,” Jax told the boy with a smile. Spending time with Kenny was equal parts fun and painful. He doubted the kid even knew just how much he acted and sounded like his father. He looked over to the daughter of Opie and Donna. “How’s that book, Elle?”

 

Ellie looked up and shrugged. “It’s alright.” She blushed, she didn’t really want to admit how attached to the two fictional characters she’d become, or the fact that she really hoped that the two leads got together at the end. “How are Abel and Thomas?”

 

“They’re good. Abel is getting big,” Jax informed her. “Thomas still mostly eats and poops.” Ellie and Kenny both laughed, he even got a little smile out of Piper. Curious about Lyla’s son he looked over where the kid studiously coloured inside the lines. “You’re doing a good job with that, Piper.”

 

The kid froze and looked over. He offered a shy smile. “Thank you,” the kid whispered and then returned to colouring.

 

Jax told Kenny he had to talk to Lyla but would come see him again before he left. On his way back to the kitchen he heard Bobby wowing the kid with his Elvis impersonation. He heard the splashing of Lyla washing dishes and the quiet murmur of Primo’s voice which stopped the moment he walked into the kitchen. Lyla put the last dish into the rack and rinsed off her hands.

 

“Are you alright?” Jax asked with his voice kept low. He didn’t want the children to overhear. Lyla nodded. “Is there anywhere you can go until this is over? The farther away the better. I’m worried about retaliation.”

 

“Kane’s men killed a Son, shouldn’t they be the ones worried?” Primo growled angrily.

 

“We attacked them, they came out on top. Kane had some kind of deal going down, he had a lot more friends than we thought and we came in at the wrong time,” Jax snapped. “Kane wants his money and he has the kind of backing to make her life hell.”

 

“I’ll just find the money,” Lyla said worriedly. “I’ll sell the house or take a loan or something.”

 

“No. We will deal with this,” Jax insisted. “We just need time and I need you safe. You got any family?”

Lyla glared at him. “Not that I would go to.”

 

“They can’t be that bad, Lyla,” Jax countered. “You’re the one that said ‘family is everything.’ The kids are depending on you for a-“

 

“Don’t you dare use that ‘higher-than-thou’ tone with me Jackson,” Lyla snapped and shoved him back a step, not that she had much strength on her side but she did have the element of surprise. “No one has to tell me that those kids depend on me. I’ve been here with them. I was here for them when they lost their father! Not you! You weren’t here when Kenny cried for his dad. You weren’t here when Ellie had nightmares for weeks on end! I was there when Kane shot up the house I’d tried to make a home for them with, I held them when they shook with fear. I love those children! They are my family and I’d do anything for them. My father is all the ‘family’ I have left and it would be a cold day in hell before I went crawling back to that mean son of a bitch!”

 

Jax stared in shock. Lyla had always been completely even-tempered and the sudden burst of anger surprised him into silence. Of course, she was right about him not being around after Opie died. He hadn’t been in the best head space but Ellie and Kenny were his godchildren and he did feel guilty about not being there for them during their grief. “I’m sorry,” he apologized softly. “What about Piper’s dad?”

 

The anger evaporated and Lyla looked to be on the verge of collapse. “Don’t mention him again.”

 

Jax took a step forward and put his hand under Lyla’s elbow, worried that she would simply faint. “You don’t look so well, come and sit down.”

 

“I’m fine,” she pulled away and bumped into Primo.

 

He too noticed how pale Lyla had become at the mention of Piper’s father. He wondered how many skeletons were in her closet. “Come and sit down,” he ordered.

 

Tired and entirely too weak to fight it she followed the command and sat at the kitchen table while Jax grabbed her a glass of apple juice. “I can’t run from this, Jax,” Lyla said softly. “The kids have school. I have work. I’ll go and talk to Kane-“ before she could say anything further both men were protesting profusely their words blurring together as they put forth their arguments to her. 

 

Finally Primo turned to Jax. “I’ll talk to Nero. Next time you hit that bastard, you’re taking some of the Byz-Lats with you.”

 

Jax nodded. “Keep her safe here. I’ll think of something to cripple that bastard.” Lyla watched in dismay as the men talked it out, making decisions about her life had spiraled beyond her control.

 

::

 

While the guards were reluctant, Ally knew the law and how to play it to her advantage. She made a big fuss, spewing legal jargon until the guards relented and allowed her to sit in a private room with Otto. It would be filmed, a guard outside of the door, another behind the one-way glass. Still, she’d gotten what she wanted and so she sat inside the small room until a guard led Otto into the room. His prison uniform crisp and clean despite it being more than halfway through the day, his chains stayed on when they sat him down.

 

“Hello, Otto.”

 

He made a sound by opening his mouth to show her where his tongue used to be. He then raised both hands and half waved with one.

 

She pulled a pad of paper and a pencil out of her briefcase. “I know you bit of your tongue,” she told him. “We’ve never met. My name is Ally Lowen. I’ve worked as the head lawyer for the Sons of Anarchy, specifically the Redwood Original charter for the past few years. I took over for Tom Rosen.”

 

He nodded showing he understood. He reached for the pen and paper and she pushed it closer. She waited while he wrote something on the pad of paper. He turned it around to draw her attention and let her read it easier. _You’re hot._

She smiled. “And you’re a hot mess, Mr Delaney.” She leaned in slightly. “I need to talk to you about a certain someone. I’m worried about how he’s effecting the club, I’m even worried his reach has extended to you.”

 

The pencil touched paper again as he wrote in a quick and messy scrawl. Not bad for a man with limited vision. _Toric._

“Yes,” she confirmed. “Has he been in to see you?”

 

_I’ll slice his fucking throat._

 

A chill ran through her body. “I need leverage, something I can use against him.”

 

He cocked his head as he listened, picking up on her fear. _Personal?_

 

Had it become personal to her? She did her best to keep her own emotions out of a case, out of the business of those she worked for but if she were honest, yes, it had become personal the moment he knocked on her door. Not that she would admit it on camera. “I’m just doing my job.”

 

He gave her a look that told her that he though her reply was complete bullshit. A guard came in. “This is a visit and he isn’t allowed sharp objects.”

 

Ally watched the way Otto tensed at the sound of the guard’s voice. A man prison hardened for years and yet he flinched at the words of a guard? “Well I’m his attorney and how would you expect me to communicate with my client without a paper and pencil?”

 

“You aren’t his defender,” the guard argued.

 

She didn’t look at the guard when he spoke, instead she kept her trained eyes on Otto who looked increasingly uncomfortable. “I am now,” she replied. “I’ll ask for a continuance with the judge on all further trials so that I may catch up with the paperwork. Now leave me with my client and turn off those cameras. My client has the right to his attorney and his privacy.”

 

“You’re insane lady!” the guard snapped. “How the hell will he pay you?”

 

“This is me showing my community spirit,” she replied sardonically. She saw the hint of a smile on Otto’s lips right before she said any client’s favourite phrase. “Pro bono.”

 

“This man stabbed a nurse to death with a fucking crucifix,” the guard argued and she finally looked over. The man’s face had gone red, veins popping in his forehead, hands balled into fists. “He isn’t getting access to sharp objects.”

 

“Are you denying this man the freedom of speech?” Ally argued as she did easily in court. “I will have you up on-“

 

“Fine, fine!” the guard finally relented. “If he stabs you in the throat, that’s your own damn fault.” The guard backed out and Ally turned her attention to the glowing red light on the camera. “Turn it off. Attorney- client privilege!” She waited until the red light turned off before she returned her attention to Otto. “That’s better.” She leaned slightly forward. “Give me something on Toric, Otto. And give me whatever you’ve got on that guard.” His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “He’ll never see it coming.”

 

Otto’s lips curved up into a toothy smile. He ripped off the piece of paper and grabbed the pencil to start writing on a fresh sheet.

 

::

 

Tara advised him not to ride, Happy had simply ignored the advice. Jax had told Happy to take it easy and promised that he would ride with Bobby. Happy didn’t find it possible to ‘take it easy’ when he could see Indiana looking so lost, or worse, those moments where she would hastily wipe away a tear and choke down a sob. So he took some time for himself. The melting of the road, his bike and the wind was better than any pain killer and if there was one place where he could spend an hour just relaxing it was in Bakersfield.

 

He parked his bike and stared at the house bitterly. Gone is the beautiful white home with blue shutters. Instead, he stared at the green house with ugly drapes. His aunt’s home, his mother’s sister. He’d tried his best to keep up with the medical payments but it had all been too much. His years as a Nomad he’d lived as frugally as possible, he owned next to nothing and what didn’t go to motorcycle parts, gas, food or smokes went to his mother but it hadn’t been enough for the mortgage on her home and the medical bills. Something had to give and it had been her home, the house he’d grown up in.

 

His aunt Marietta opened the door and stared out at him. She looked much like Carina, a little older, her hair completely grey and eyes much harder but the same compact figure and pleasant face.  She motioned for him to come in. “Come now, Manuel,” she ordered. Never once had she called him by his first name. ‘‘Happy’ is not a name but an emotion,’ she’d always say. “We are having dinner. Carina will be pleased to see you.”

 

Happy dismounted his bike and pocked his keys as he walked across the yard. He hugged his aunt and kissed her cheek. “Tía Marietta, how is she?”

 

Marietta frowned at the mention of her sister’s health. “Come, see.”

 

Her aversion to just telling him caused him to worry. His mother’s health had gone up and gone down over the years. She’d gone into remission last year and he worried that it would hit her again. He had no savings and a pile of unpaid medical bills, he’d have to do something drastic if it hit again.

 

Marietta led him into the small living room that had an old flower printed couch, a television on an old stand and a rocking chair that faced the sliding glass doors that looked out on a pitiful looking garden that was overrun by weeds. In the rocking chair sat his mother, Carina. Still beautiful as always but she no longer had any hair, instead she wore a pretty pink silk scarf over her bald head. She looked even skinnier than the last time he saw her, her eyes seemed sunken in and tired. It pained him to see his mother this way. “Ma?”

 

Carina turned and smiled but it did little to lighten her face that looked like it had aged ten years. “Happy, my boy.” She stood slowly and he crossed the room quickly to help her up. She hugged him tightly, he grimaced at the pressure she put on his wound but made no sound. “It is so good to see you, son.”

 

“Good to see you too, Ma,” he replied, his voice tight with pain. Not the physical pain of the pressure on his wound, but the emotional pain of seeing his mother so sickly. “How are you feeling?”

 

“I’m quite good, today is a good day,” she insisted brightly. “My only son is here to visit, dinner should be finished,” she looked to her sister who nodded. “You must stay for dinner. You’re too skinny.”

 

“You’ve said I’m too skinny since I turned eighteen,” he smiled.

 

“That’s because you left and I couldn’t cook for you anymore,” Carina replied. “You clearly don’t have a woman looking after you.” She tut-tutted and rubbed a grease stain on his shirt.

 

He sighed and sent a desperate look over at his aunt who smiled and abandoned him with his mother. He groaned. “Ma. Please. Just once.”

 

“Who’s going to look after you when I’m gone?” she demanded, her voice breaking and tears welling in her eyes.

 

The sudden question and her emotional reaction to it shocked Happy. In all the years she’d battled cancer never had she let him see her like this. It cut through him like a blade a quick stab right to the heart, serrated and ripping flesh on its way out.  “You’re not going anywhere,” he replied gruffly and hugged her tightly as though she might just slip away if he didn’t.

 

She sobbed against his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she repeated.

 

“You’re going to be fine, just fine.” He said it sternly, commanding the universe to bend to his will.

 

::

 

“It’s back,” Marietta told him quietly while his mother sat alone in the dining room. He paused in the task of refilling his plate in the kitchen. “The cancer.” She frowned and pulled out a file from the drawer and passed it over to her nephew. “Manuel,” she said his middle name softly. “It’s returned in the form of Hodgkin’s disease. She hardly pulled through with breast cancer, had a double mastectomy and at her age,” the words trailed off but Happy understood what went unsaid.

 

“What therapy is she taking?”

 

“She’s refusing it,” Marietta whispered. “Too old, she says.”

 

 _Too broke_ , Happy thought.  He felt like a complete failure being unable to care for his ailing mother. “What does she need?”

 

“Chemotherapy again. Maybe surgery.” Marietta shrugged. “These doctors talk so fast with all their medical words, I’m not sure.”

 

“I’ll talk to her.”

 

“The money.”

 

“I’ll find it.”

 

She took out two bills from the drawer with over-due stamps. “How?”

 

“I’ll figure it out,” he growled. “I’ll figure it out.”

 

“Let it go,” Carina said softly and both Happy and Marietta turned with a start. “It’s okay. Just let it go. No use getting sicker trying to get better. I’m not going to get better,” she told them. “That is just the way it is. Now, come, both of you, let’s finish dinner like a family.”

 

“You can’t do this,” Happy said suddenly. No longer was he the feared and respected man in his early forties but a child facing the potential loss of his mother.

 

“I’m not doing anything,” she defended.

 

“Exactly!” he shouted, desperate to make her see. “You’re not doing anything! You’re sick and you’re not doing anything about it.”

 

“Happy Manuel Lowman,” she said using the stern voice of a mother with her child.  “I’m not going to remain a burden on my son and my sister. This has gone on long enough. Clearly God has decided that-“

 

His temper snapped. “Oh fuck that!”

 

“Happy!” Carina scolded him at the same time Marietta shouted, “Manuel!”

 

Denial had him shaking his head. “You can’t do this!”

 

Carina let out a soft sigh. “It is selfish to continue living like this!”

 

“What’s selfish is letting yourself die when you could get better!” He bowed his head, the emotions of the rest of the day combined with the discovery of his mother’s condition had his eyes becoming damp. Tears. He forgot he even could cry. “It’s selfish to take yourself away from me.” Carina sobbed upon hearing her son’s voice break. She walked across the room and held him close, surprised by the tears against her shoulder. “Ma, don’t give up. Please. For me, please?”

 

And what option did she, a mother, have at that point? Her stoic, strong, self-sufficient only son begging her to fight left her with no option. “Shh, okay, Happy. I’ll fight,” she promised him. “For you, my son, I will always fight.”

 

::

 

Lyla stood by the window that overlooked the trees and long laneway back to the main road. The three children were tucked into their beds and despite the quiet, she felt no peace. A terrible restlessness had settled upon her, refusing to release her from its fearful grasp. She turned when she heard Primo walk over. They stared at each other for a while before Lyla looked away. She crossed the room and grabbed a clean glass and filled it with water. Her hand trembled and instead of drinking it she set it on the counter. Her hands pressed against the wood counter top and she leaned her weight onto them. “What?” she asked softly.

 

He remained quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry this is happening to you.”

 

She looked over at him and found him closer than she had expected. She swallowed hard and stared up into his dark eyes. “Maybe I can just get the money,” she suggested in a whisper. “Maybe I can just talk to him, make him give me more time.”

 

“No. He’d hurt you,” Primo argued, his voice just as low. “He wants to make an example out of you.”

 

Tears fell down her face. “I just want the kids to be safe again. I’ve done this to them.”

 

He shook his head but before he could say anything, her lips were on his. He gripped her shoulders and held her away at arm’s length. The rejection burned and Lyla openly sobbed. She wanted comfort, love, affection. Something other than this dark loneliness. She missed Opie, even when he wasn’t there, she felt safe. She needed someone. She’d always needed someone. Her own weakness crippled her and she pulled out of his arms to find her back against the counter. “I’m sorry,” she managed to get the words past her lips despite her embarrassment and shame.

 

Her tears turned him inside out. He hated it when women cried. He took a step closer to her. “Why? Are you sorry because of what you did or why you did it?” Her open vulnerability cut to his soul but he had to know. “Are you doing this because you’re scared?”

 

She shrugged. “I don’t know,” she whispered with her cheeks ablaze with her humiliation. She knew the answer. She’d developed feelings for Primo after being with him for days on end without break. Little glances, small smiles, stiff conversation that still led her to believe that he cared for her wellbeing beyond his orders to protect her, a genuine kindness. She didn’t want to admit it though, she doubted he had those kinds of feelings for her. Besides, she was a hot mess with three kids, who the hell wanted that?

 

“Let me know when you do,” he told her but stayed where he was for a moment. He took in her beauty, the vulnerability, the tears and the blush. So far, she’d given all the clues and he’d given her nothing. He didn’t like being on such uneven ground. Her bottom lip quivered and he couldn’t help himself. His hand cupped her chin and forced her to look up at him, only when her eyes met his did he lower his lips to slant over hers. With a great need he kissed her, drank from her like a man dying of thirst and as suddenly as he started he pulled away. “Let me know when you do,” he repeated as he turned to leave.

 

The kiss left her dizzy and hopeful for the first time since her relationship with Opie started to crumble. She had her security, his feelings in that kiss gave her that. She reached out and grabbed his arms. “I have my answer,” she blurted. He turned and raised an eyebrow. “I like you. A lot.” She took a timid step closer as her hand trailed down his arm. “I need you. I want you. I’m not good at being alone.”

 

“You could have anyone if you don’t like being alone,” he informed her.

 

“I don’t want anyone,” she whispered, closing the space between them. She took a deep breath. “I want you.” To drive her point home, her fingertips trailed along the top of his jeans.

 

He ran a hand through her hair and studied her face. “Me or my dick?” he asked. At this point, he’d give her either but he wanted the answer first so there could be nothing misconstrued. She did something he didn’t expect, she blushed, the porn star who worked at an escort service blushed.

 

“Both,” she whispered. She was quick to continue, “I get that I’m not in the best place right now. I have men trying to make a message out of me and I have three kids and that complicates things and-“

 

He cut her off by firmly kissing her. “Shut up,” he ordered with a grin. She managed a small smile before his lips once again met hers.

 

::

 

Jax smoked in bed. Satisfied and relaxed for the first time in a long time. He’d had dinner with his wife and sons. He’d played with toy dinosaurs with Abel and read Thomas a story at bed time. He’d watched a movie, snuggled on the couch with Tara after their boys were sleeping. They’d gone to bed, but not to sleep. For the first time in a long time they made slow and sweet love to one another. He held her close after feeling incredibly pleased.

 

She reached out and took the cigarette from his fingertips and took a drag off of it herself. “I enjoyed that,” she whispered. She felt incredibly pleased, her body relaxed and entirely pleasured.

 

He kissed her temple. “Me too.” Simple moments like lying in bed next to each other made him wonder why he spent so much time away. He wanted to change the club, make it better, make it safer. He wanted his family to be happy, safe, to be able to live without fear. She took the final drag and crawled over him to reach out for the ashtray that remained out of reach. She moved just a little, just a little more. He smiled as his lips grazed against her bellybutton. “Keep going babe,” he enticed. She laughed and moved just a bit more and his mouth kissed her intimately. Her breath came out shaky as she just managed to stub out the cigarette before his hands came down upon her hips to hold her in place. “I love the way you taste.”

  
She gripped the headboard tightly and had a feeling that she was going to wake with beard burn in a rather uncomfortable place but at the moment she could find it in herself to mind.

 

::

 

The road, the wind and the motorcycle did nothing for Happy on the ride back to Charming. Nor did the two shots of bourbon before he decided he needed a clear head to deal with the pile of medical bills he had out in front of him. He made a few calls, used a couple of credit cards to buy him a bit of time. He ran his hand over his face and stared at the numbers, trying to will them into a budget that he could manage.

 

He looked up when someone moved behind the bar and he found Indiana staring at the alcohol on the wall. He didn’t advise her not to drink, or on what to drink, he didn’t say anything.

 

“Dad left,” she said monotonously. “Tink too, they went with Angus. Emily stayed. She cried. I heard her.” Happy remained silent as she pulled down a bottle of tequila and turned to face him. “I can’t cry anymore,” she told him. She poured two shots but didn’t touch either. “I doubt this place has limes.” She didn’t look for them, she just looked down at the drink. “Dad is going to tell Dax. He’s going to be upset. Jax is going to have Mac cremated like Mac wanted. Mac is dead. I keep thinking about it. I don’t think I cried enough.”

 

He tilted his head trying to combine this Indiana with the one he’d known so well. She seemed entirely numb to the situation but that seemed perfectly normal. “You lost someone you care about,” he told her quietly, thinking of his mother and how crushed he would be to lose her. “Numbness is a blessing. Embrace it.”

 

She nodded. “I don’t think my ribs could take me sobbing anymore. I don’t think my eyes can take the tears.” She moved the two shot glasses around but didn’t pick either up. “Dad is worried, about Tink, about me. I have to be strong so he doesn’t have to worry so much.”

 

He stared at her and wondered if she’d already had anything to drink but she looked remarkably steady.

 

She put her hand on one of the bills. “Medical bills?”

 

Caught with them, he had no choice but to respond. “My ma’s.”

 

Wordlessly she left. Surprised by her sudden departure, his dark eyes followed her until she disappeared around the corner. A few minutes later she returned with a wad of cash. “Does this help?”

 

“Jesus,” he stared at the wad of cash in surprise. “What the hell?”

 

“It’s five grand… almost five,” she corrected. “I pulled a couple twenties for gas. Does that help?”

 

“I can’t,” he refused to take money from her and at the same time, it would help, it would give him breathing room that he desperately needed from collectors. Need battled with pride.

 

“I can’t do anything for Mac. Let me do this,” she begged. “Let me feel something good again.”

 

Desperation lined her features. He didn’t feel right about it but he couldn’t turn it away with his mother counting on him. “A loan,” he decided it was a compromise he could live with. “You can loan it to me.”

 

She let out a sigh and nodded. “Whenever, it doesn’t matter.”

 

“It’s a lot of money,” he argued.

 

“But it doesn’t matter, Hap. It doesn’t do anything. Doesn’t bring Mac back but if it could help you Ma, if it could keep her, then its power, it has purpose, it gives hope. I need that. See, this is selfish. I need this,” Indiana reasoned. She moved the drinks around again. “I’m not going to drink these,” she told him. “I don’t need them. I’m not going to drink them.”

 

“Okay,” he replied softly.

 

“Are you staying here tonight?” she asked. “It’s stupid. I know Tig is here but…”

 

“You’re scared?”

 

“Not scared,” she replied quickly. She shrugged and appeared vulnerable to him. “Not alone either. I would just, it would just,” she fumbled her words and sighed. “I don’t know, I don’t know what I’m doing, or feeling, or not feeling.” Suddenly her blue eyes were on his. “Do you see me?”

 

He stared at her trying to figure out what she meant. “I’m not blind.”

 

“Dad sees a five year old girl,” Indiana elaborated. “Tink sees frailty. Emily sees a broken toy in need of fixing. Tig sees something he’s been told to guard, in his eyes I might as well be something inanimate. Happy, do you see me?”

 

He understood then. She needed someone to know her inside and out. He didn’t know why but she needed it like he needed the five grand. She’d helped him and in this case he could help her. “I’m staying and I see you.”

 

“Do you promise?” Her eyes searched for any trace of a lie.

 

“I promise.”

 

She nodded and looked down at the drinks. “I’m so tired. It’s all the emotions, you know?” She took a deep breath. “I’m going to bed. You’re staying tonight, you’ll be here in the morning.”

 

He wasn’t sure if she was asking a question or repeating it to reassure herself. “Get some sleep. I’m staying. I’ll be sleeping on the couch or here at the bar if you need anything.”

 

She left the drinks and walked across the bar. She stared at him for a moment, even opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it. Best to keep everything bottled up, safer to keep secrets than expose them, to leave her heart open again. Afraid of her words, of what might slip out, she just nodded her head and walked away.

There is a certain confidence that comes with having an entourage of bikers tailing your vehicle. The thunderous growl threatening everyone around, announcing their presence and creating fear. Ally Lowen’s compact car didn’t make such noises but V-Lin and Phil’s bikes behind her did. Having the Sons as company made her feel much more secure and yet she still felt entirely on edge. Something had to be done about Lee Toric.

 

She parked her car and took a deep breath. With her briefcase in hand she exited the vehicle. The wind brought the scent from the flowerbed over and the place seemed a serene location to just relax for a moment. She had never been one to stop and smell the roses, and with so much on the line she’d be damned if she stopped now. Her long strides took her across the lot and into the restaurant.

 

The fresh-faced young woman behind the counter smiled. “Hello, table for one?”

 

“No, I’m meeting someone,” Ally replied as she looked around. “Diane Loretto, she made reservations. Is she here yet?”

 

The woman looked at the book and nodded. “Yes, Ms. Loretto is right this way.” The woman grabbed a second menu and led the way to a quiet booth by the window.

 

Diane was pushing fifty had her phone to her ear and raised her finger in the universal ‘one minute’ signal. The waitress took it as dismissal and left. Ally nodded and took her seat across from the judge. To pass the time she flipped through the options on the menu. She thought the pasta looked exceptional but her fear of the scale made her settle for the grilled chicken salad with the dressing on the side.

 

“Sorry about that,” Diane said as she returned her phone to her purse. “Some things can’t be avoided.”

 

“Yeah, I know a little something about that,” Ally admitted.

 

The two women played the polite catch-up game until the waitress returned and they were able to order. While their meals were being prepared they knew they would have more time to talk without being interrupted.

 

“So, Ally, what is this about?”

 

“I was wondering if you’ve ever met a US Marshall, or ex-US Marshal now, Lee Toric.”

 

Diane sat a little straighter. “Lee Toric,” the name came almost fearfully off of the judge’s tongue. “Why do you want to know about him?”

 

“As you know, I’m the primary lawyer for the Redwood Charter of the Sons of Anarchy MC,” Ally begun to explain.

 

“Toric is retired,” Diane interrupted. “Why would he be interested in the Sons?”

 

Ally leaned in slightly and lowered her voice. “Tara Knowles, a doctor and wife of the club President was treating the man who killed Pamela Toric, Lee Toric’s sister. He was a club member, she was in the room.”

 

Diane rubbed her temples. “I don’t need to know more than that.” She didn’t want a better view into the MC. She had presided over a few cases of SOA members before and didn’t want anything outside of the courtroom to colour her views. “I take it that Mr Toric didn’t take that death well.”

 

“No, he didn’t,” Ally replied pulling up the sleeves of her shirt to show the bruises on her wrists.

 

Diane’s blue eyes stood out against her grey streaked dark brown hair. Her eyes held sympathy and concern. “His track record for bringing in fugitives was exceptional but he had a history of using excessive force. Still, he was respected among the Marshals and thus instead of receiving a dishonourable discharge he was pushed into retirement by the Director of US Marshal Service so he could maintain his benefits.” She sat up straight and managed a polite smile as the waitress returned with their meals. Her steak and potatoes smelt heavenly and she shook her head at the sight of some miniscule grilled chicken breast on a bed of leaves that sat in front of her companion.

 

Ally used the salad dressing sparingly and picked up her knife to cut the chicken into bite sized portions. “How excessive?”

 

“Started with bumped heads, consistent with having your head shoved into the car when you’re trying to get in. Moved up to full on beatings. One man _escaped_ his care,” she said the word with disbelief. “He was never found.”

 

“Was that the incident that had the agency pushing for retirement?” Ally inquired.

 

“It contributed, added with everything else the Marshals had to do something,” Diane replied. “You said a prisoner murdered his sister, right?”  Ally stabbed her salad and nodded. “Maybe you should talk to the prisoner.”

 

Ally stared longingly at the steak on Diane’s plate before she looked up at the woman. “I’ll try to get visitation.

 

“You shouldn’t have any problem, you are the club lawyer.”

 

“I’m not Otto’s though. He went to prison before I started working for the Sons. From what I hear, he didn’t get along with Rosen, or any other lawyer for that matter. He wanted a public defender and so that is what he has.” Ally sighed. “And talking to him might be difficult. He bit off his tongue.”

 

Diane grimaced and her fork hovered halfway to her mouth for a second. “He bit off his tongue?”

 

Ally chewed on her salad and shrugged. She washed down the bland food with a sip of water. “That’s what I hear.”

 

“If Toric’s history of brutality stands, you might be able to get more information out of that inmate than anyone else.”

 

Ally nodded and put down her fork with a sudden surge of urgency. “Thank you, Diane.” She pulled her wallet out and put down enough to cover both of their meals and tip. “I need to get to the prison before visitation hours end.”

 

Diane gave a curt nod of her head and watched as the other woman hurried out with briefcase in hand. “Good luck, Ally.”

 

::

 

Nomad. The word defined him long before he wore its patch. Quinn still kept it, the patch, tucked into the pocket of his kutte. Despite the fact that the Nomads had been disbanded, that they had scattered to different charters he held onto the hope that once things got cleaned up the Nomad charter would be rebooted. For now, he had more pressing issues.

 

Jax had told them there were four rooms at the clubhouse. Mac’s belongings were still in one and when Quinn tried to put his daughter in one of the empty rooms she just asked to stay where Mac had. He didn’t like it, he didn’t think it was best for her. She looked so lost but this was one issue in which she politely requested and when he denied her, she’d become only more stubborn about it. Eventually, he relented, perhaps she needed to feel close to say goodbye.

 

Rane Quinn couldn’t claim to be the world’s best father and in all his years he’d never had a situation quite like this. He had no idea how to deal with it. He couldn’t combat the depression that hung over his daughter, he didn’t know what to say or how to make it better, or even if he could. So, he focused on what he could handle.

 

A large duffle bag had been hastily packed by Tink for both him and her. He pulled out an extra set of clothes and shoved them into a smaller bag that he could tuck into his saddle bag. When the door opened, he stood up straight and looked over. He’d half expected his daughter. Indiana had always been a ‘daddy’s girl,’ but somewhere along the way, she’d grown up and had become a self-sufficient woman. Instead of his daughter, his wife stood in the doorway.

 

Tink stepped into the room and shut the door behind herself. Out of habit, she locked it before she crossed the room. She paused at the foot of the bed and looked at the small bag he packed. “You’re leaving.”

 

Her words came out a cross between a question and an accusation. What she didn’t sound, was surprised. Quinn extended his hand and she reached out to take it. He gave a slight pull and she stepped closer. “We need more bodies. I can do the run, get the paperwork for release for both myself and Angus.” He pulled her a little bit closer. “I don’t want Dax to hear about this over the phone. He sponsored Mac. They were close.”

 

Tink stared up at her husband. “You’re not riding alone.”

 

Not a question but a statement, bordering on an order. Quinn raised an eyebrow. “No. You’re coming with me.” Her eyebrows shot up. Definitely not the answer she had expected. Her mouth opened just slightly but she couldn’t form a single word. She stared at her husband completely bewildered. He pulled her right up against him and gripped her hips. He’d been terrified when he’d returned to Sanctuary to find the closed sign, his wife drinking straight from the bottle with the tears in her eyes.  He hadn’t been there when she had needed him and he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her alone and vulnerable. “I need you with me.”

 

The sigh she let out carried his name. He threaded his fingers through her short hair and laid his lips upon hers. Her defensive posture melted into complete submission but as always, she gave as good as she got. She kissed him with great urgency regardless the darkness of the day, or perhaps in spite of it. She didn’t tease, she just immediately tugged at his shirt in desperation for skin to skin contact. That frantic need seemed to be contagious and their clothing ended up mingled on the floor.

 

He lowered her to the bed. They both needed this respite. Their words could wait. The situation could wait. He held her close and with their joining they both regained the balance the world had robbed them of.

 

::

 

No one likes having to admit their own personal failure but failure was what brought Jax and Bobby up to the cabin. They parked their bikes but before they could even dismount, the door opened and Kenny raced out. “Jax!” the young boy shouted. “Hey!”

 

“Hey yourself,” Jax replied as he got off his bike. He couldn’t believe how much taller Opie’s son had grown since the last time he’d laid eyes on the kid. “Is Lyla inside?”

 

“Yeah. She’s making dinner,” Kenny replied.

 

The door opened and Primo stepped out with gun in hand. Upon seeing the two Sons, he tucked the firearm back into the back of his pants. “Kenny, get washed up,” Primo ordered. “Dinner is almost done.”

 

Kenny turned away from Primo to stare up at Jax. It was eerie how much the kid looked like his father and it tore Jax up inside. “Are you going to stay a bit?”

 

“Yeah, a little while,” Jax admitted.

 

Kenny immediately smiled. “Cool!” He then rushed off back into the house. 

 

Jax and Bobby followed behind Kenny and greeted the Byz-Lat. Primo frowned the usual cocky arrogance that Jax carried himself with appeared to be all together missing and that worried him. He put his arm out to block the entrance to the cabin. “What happened?” he demanded, his voice low but neutral.

 

“Kane had friends,” Bobby replied quietly and before Primo could say anything, he continued. “We lost one of ours.”

 

Primo absorbed the new information. He shook his head. “Shit. Sorry about your man.” His arm remained blocking the entrance and he struggled to find the right words. While Primo ranked highly in the Byz-Lats’s hierarchy he wasn’t known for his riveting speeches. “She’s scared,” he told them as he let his arm lower. “Try not to freak her out any more than she already is.”

 

Failure, guilt and self-loathing hit Jax. Those who fell under the protection of the club should be safe. The fact that Lyla lived in constant danger left him feeling like he’d broken a promise to Opie, his brother, his best friend, the man who gave his life for him and for the club. He found it to be completely unacceptable. “We will set this right,” he proclaimed.

 

“The sooner the better,” Primo muttered as he led them into the house. “Lyla, Jax and Bobby are here.”

 

Lyla came around the corner wearing an apron over a lovely powder blue dress. “Jax, Bobby, good to see you both. Are you guys staying for dinner? I know it’s a little early but Kenny has a soccer game and I have to get Ellie to the library for a research report.”

 

Flustered, rushed, tired, Jax frowned. She refused to take momentary help from the club even when Jax insisted. She wanted to stand on her own two feet but didn’t she realize that now she had two kids that weren’t even biologically hers to take care of and only her one income? He wanted to help but also understood the need to do something on your own. “No,” he replied. “We’ll stick around but I’m going to try to be home with Tara and the kids for dinner tonight.”

  
Lyla smiled and it made her appear young and vibrant once again. “That’s good. Family is important.”

 

“You sound like my mother,” Jax groaned making Lyla laugh.

 

“Sometimes Gemma is right,” she told him, pointing a wooden spoon in his direction. “So what brings you two out here?”

 

Jax and Bobby exchanged a nervous glace before Jax returned his attention to Lyla. He hadn’t missed how Primo had taken a step closer to Lyla. “We went to see Kane today. It didn’t go as planned.”

 

“All clean!” Kenny said coming in with Piper. “I helped him with the booster stool so he could wash his hands too.”

 

Lyla felt panic rising and it became lodged in her throat. She could read between the lines, the body language and glances Bobby and Jax kept sharing. She managed to tear her eyes away from the Sons and turned to her two young boys. Kenny looked proud and Piper looked nervous. She managed a small smile. “Very good Kenny, thank you for helping Piper. Could the two of you go get Ellie? She’s reading in the back yard.”

 

“Okay,” Kenny replied. “Come on, Piper.” The quiet blond boy shot one more glance at the intimidating bikers before he trailed behind Kenny.

 

Lyla waited until she heard the back door open and close. “Is everyone whole?”

 

“Mac, a recent transfer died,” Jax admitted softly.

 

A small sob escaped Lyla’s lips. Her problems had harmed those around her. She didn’t know that particular Son but it didn’t lessen the pain. Her former addiction, her old debt had put her and the children into the dangerous position, had forced her to go to Jax for help. Because of her, a man was dead. A strong hand grasped her shoulder and squeezed. She looked over at Primo, tears glistening in her eyelashes. She had the strong and sudden urge to hug him, to have him hold her, to give into weakness and sob. The door once again opened and she stood a little straighter, she sniffled and looked around to find a tissue. She settled for a piece of rough paper towel and quickly wiped away her tears and shut down her emotions- a skill she’d learned long ago. She found it much easier to perform in porn when she felt nothing at all. That need to stop feeling was what had led her to the drugs in the first place.

 

The boys returned with Ellie who looked at Lyla curiously. “Are you crying?”

 

“Oh, no,” Lyla forced a small smile. “I just sneezed a few times in a row and it made my eyes water.”

 

Ellie raised an eyebrow but shrugged. “What’s for dinner?” 

 

::

 

The small adjoining bathroom had the essential toilet, sink and shower. The cubical shower unit Quinn and Tink shared only had the space to fit one person comfortably. Quinn’s shoulder kept bumping against the glass or the tile and he was always pressed up against his much shorter wife. “Did you mean what you said?” she asked as she rinsed off the suds from the front of her body.

 

“I rarely don’t mean what I say,” he replied.

 

“What about Indiana?”

 

“Emily is here and when she’s ready to talk, that’s who she will go to. I’ve talked to Jax and he promised that a member of SAMCRO will be here around the clock, so she will physically be protected. I don’t really know what else I can do for her right now,” he admitted. “The only thing I can do is get the transfer and try to recruit more members to SAMCRO.”

 

Tink turned around and tilted her head back to rinse the shampoo from her hair. Quinn’s eyes followed a trickle of water down between her breasts. “I still don’t like the idea of riding alone. We should bring Angus with us.” Before Quinn could protest, she continued. “I’d feel more secure on the road riding with someone else and Indiana would be more likely to go to Emily if she knows that she’s alone.”

 

If it made her feel safe again, he’d do just about anything. “If that’s what you want.”

 

She smiled up at him and rested her head against his chest. “I love you, Rane.”

 

::

 

“This one is Piper’s,” Kenny informed Jax and Bobby, holding up the toy monster truck. “It’s pretty cool and he’s good at sharing.” The boy in question sat on the ground with a colouring book he looked over at the mention of his name. “I got a new comic book,” Kenny continued. “It’s about _Superman_. He isn’t my favourite,” the boy admitted. “But I’m at this part where there is a really cool battle and he’s flying and he’s shooting lasers out of his eyes like _Cyclops_ from the _X-men_!”

 

“Very cool,” Jax told the boy with a smile. Spending time with Kenny was equal parts fun and painful. He doubted the kid even knew just how much he acted and sounded like his father. He looked over to the daughter of Opie and Donna. “How’s that book, Elle?”

 

Ellie looked up and shrugged. “It’s alright.” She blushed, she didn’t really want to admit how attached to the two fictional characters she’d become, or the fact that she really hoped that the two leads got together at the end. “How are Abel and Thomas?”

 

“They’re good. Abel is getting big,” Jax informed her. “Thomas still mostly eats and poops.” Ellie and Kenny both laughed, he even got a little smile out of Piper. Curious about Lyla’s son he looked over where the kid studiously coloured inside the lines. “You’re doing a good job with that, Piper.”

 

The kid froze and looked over. He offered a shy smile. “Thank you,” the kid whispered and then returned to colouring.

 

Jax told Kenny he had to talk to Lyla but would come see him again before he left. On his way back to the kitchen he heard Bobby wowing the kid with his Elvis impersonation. He heard the splashing of Lyla washing dishes and the quiet murmur of Primo’s voice which stopped the moment he walked into the kitchen. Lyla put the last dish into the rack and rinsed off her hands.

 

“Are you alright?” Jax asked with his voice kept low. He didn’t want the children to overhear. Lyla nodded. “Is there anywhere you can go until this is over? The farther away the better. I’m worried about retaliation.”

 

“Kane’s men killed a Son, shouldn’t they be the ones worried?” Primo growled angrily.

 

“We attacked them, they came out on top. Kane had some kind of deal going down, he had a lot more friends than we thought and we came in at the wrong time,” Jax snapped. “Kane wants his money and he has the kind of backing to make her life hell.”

 

“I’ll just find the money,” Lyla said worriedly. “I’ll sell the house or take a loan or something.”

 

“No. We will deal with this,” Jax insisted. “We just need time and I need you safe. You got any family?”

Lyla glared at him. “Not that I would go to.”

 

“They can’t be that bad, Lyla,” Jax countered. “You’re the one that said ‘family is everything.’ The kids are depending on you for a-“

 

“Don’t you dare use that ‘higher-than-thou’ tone with me Jackson,” Lyla snapped and shoved him back a step, not that she had much strength on her side but she did have the element of surprise. “No one has to tell me that those kids depend on me. I’ve been here with them. I was here for them when they lost their father! Not you! You weren’t here when Kenny cried for his dad. You weren’t here when Ellie had nightmares for weeks on end! I was there when Kane shot up the house I’d tried to make a home for them with, I held them when they shook with fear. I love those children! They are my family and I’d do anything for them. My father is all the ‘family’ I have left and it would be a cold day in hell before I went crawling back to that mean son of a bitch!”

 

Jax stared in shock. Lyla had always been completely even-tempered and the sudden burst of anger surprised him into silence. Of course, she was right about him not being around after Opie died. He hadn’t been in the best head space but Ellie and Kenny were his godchildren and he did feel guilty about not being there for them during their grief. “I’m sorry,” he apologized softly. “What about Piper’s dad?”

 

The anger evaporated and Lyla looked to be on the verge of collapse. “Don’t mention him again.”

 

Jax took a step forward and put his hand under Lyla’s elbow, worried that she would simply faint. “You don’t look so well, come and sit down.”

 

“I’m fine,” she pulled away and bumped into Primo.

 

He too noticed how pale Lyla had become at the mention of Piper’s father. He wondered how many skeletons were in her closet. “Come and sit down,” he ordered.

 

Tired and entirely too weak to fight it she followed the command and sat at the kitchen table while Jax grabbed her a glass of apple juice. “I can’t run from this, Jax,” Lyla said softly. “The kids have school. I have work. I’ll go and talk to Kane-“ before she could say anything further both men were protesting profusely their words blurring together as they put forth their arguments to her. 

 

Finally Primo turned to Jax. “I’ll talk to Nero. Next time you hit that bastard, you’re taking some of the Byz-Lats with you.”

 

Jax nodded. “Keep her safe here. I’ll think of something to cripple that bastard.” Lyla watched in dismay as the men talked it out, making decisions about her life had spiraled beyond her control.

 

::

 

While the guards were reluctant, Ally knew the law and how to play it to her advantage. She made a big fuss, spewing legal jargon until the guards relented and allowed her to sit in a private room with Otto. It would be filmed, a guard outside of the door, another behind the one-way glass. Still, she’d gotten what she wanted and so she sat inside the small room until a guard led Otto into the room. His prison uniform crisp and clean despite it being more than halfway through the day, his chains stayed on when they sat him down.

 

“Hello, Otto.”

 

He made a sound by opening his mouth to show her where his tongue used to be. He then raised both hands and half waved with one.

 

She pulled a pad of paper and a pencil out of her briefcase. “I know you bit of your tongue,” she told him. “We’ve never met. My name is Ally Lowen. I’ve worked as the head lawyer for the Sons of Anarchy, specifically the Redwood Original charter for the past few years. I took over for Tom Rosen.”

 

He nodded showing he understood. He reached for the pen and paper and she pushed it closer. She waited while he wrote something on the pad of paper. He turned it around to draw her attention and let her read it easier. _You’re hot._

She smiled. “And you’re a hot mess, Mr Delaney.” She leaned in slightly. “I need to talk to you about a certain someone. I’m worried about how he’s effecting the club, I’m even worried his reach has extended to you.”

 

The pencil touched paper again as he wrote in a quick and messy scrawl. Not bad for a man with limited vision. _Toric._

“Yes,” she confirmed. “Has he been in to see you?”

 

_I’ll slice his fucking throat._

 

A chill ran through her body. “I need leverage, something I can use against him.”

 

He cocked his head as he listened, picking up on her fear. _Personal?_

 

Had it become personal to her? She did her best to keep her own emotions out of a case, out of the business of those she worked for but if she were honest, yes, it had become personal the moment he knocked on her door. Not that she would admit it on camera. “I’m just doing my job.”

 

He gave her a look that told her that he though her reply was complete bullshit. A guard came in. “This is a visit and he isn’t allowed sharp objects.”

 

Ally watched the way Otto tensed at the sound of the guard’s voice. A man prison hardened for years and yet he flinched at the words of a guard? “Well I’m his attorney and how would you expect me to communicate with my client without a paper and pencil?”

 

“You aren’t his defender,” the guard argued.

 

She didn’t look at the guard when he spoke, instead she kept her trained eyes on Otto who looked increasingly uncomfortable. “I am now,” she replied. “I’ll ask for a continuance with the judge on all further trials so that I may catch up with the paperwork. Now leave me with my client and turn off those cameras. My client has the right to his attorney and his privacy.”

 

“You’re insane lady!” the guard snapped. “How the hell will he pay you?”

 

“This is me showing my community spirit,” she replied sardonically. She saw the hint of a smile on Otto’s lips right before she said any client’s favourite phrase. “Pro bono.”

 

“This man stabbed a nurse to death with a fucking crucifix,” the guard argued and she finally looked over. The man’s face had gone red, veins popping in his forehead, hands balled into fists. “He isn’t getting access to sharp objects.”

 

“Are you denying this man the freedom of speech?” Ally argued as she did easily in court. “I will have you up on-“

 

“Fine, fine!” the guard finally relented. “If he stabs you in the throat, that’s your own damn fault.” The guard backed out and Ally turned her attention to the glowing red light on the camera. “Turn it off. Attorney- client privilege!” She waited until the red light turned off before she returned her attention to Otto. “That’s better.” She leaned slightly forward. “Give me something on Toric, Otto. And give me whatever you’ve got on that guard.” His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “He’ll never see it coming.”

 

Otto’s lips curved up into a toothy smile. He ripped off the piece of paper and grabbed the pencil to start writing on a fresh sheet.

 

::

 

Tara advised him not to ride, Happy had simply ignored the advice. Jax had told Happy to take it easy and promised that he would ride with Bobby. Happy didn’t find it possible to ‘take it easy’ when he could see Indiana looking so lost, or worse, those moments where she would hastily wipe away a tear and choke down a sob. So he took some time for himself. The melting of the road, his bike and the wind was better than any pain killer and if there was one place where he could spend an hour just relaxing it was in Bakersfield.

 

He parked his bike and stared at the house bitterly. Gone is the beautiful white home with blue shutters. Instead, he stared at the green house with ugly drapes. His aunt’s home, his mother’s sister. He’d tried his best to keep up with the medical payments but it had all been too much. His years as a Nomad he’d lived as frugally as possible, he owned next to nothing and what didn’t go to motorcycle parts, gas, food or smokes went to his mother but it hadn’t been enough for the mortgage on her home and the medical bills. Something had to give and it had been her home, the house he’d grown up in.

 

His aunt Marietta opened the door and stared out at him. She looked much like Carina, a little older, her hair completely grey and eyes much harder but the same compact figure and pleasant face.  She motioned for him to come in. “Come now, Manuel,” she ordered. Never once had she called him by his first name. ‘‘Happy’ is not a name but an emotion,’ she’d always say. “We are having dinner. Carina will be pleased to see you.”

 

Happy dismounted his bike and pocked his keys as he walked across the yard. He hugged his aunt and kissed her cheek. “Tía Marietta, how is she?”

 

Marietta frowned at the mention of her sister’s health. “Come, see.”

 

Her aversion to just telling him caused him to worry. His mother’s health had gone up and gone down over the years. She’d gone into remission last year and he worried that it would hit her again. He had no savings and a pile of unpaid medical bills, he’d have to do something drastic if it hit again.

 

Marietta led him into the small living room that had an old flower printed couch, a television on an old stand and a rocking chair that faced the sliding glass doors that looked out on a pitiful looking garden that was overrun by weeds. In the rocking chair sat his mother, Carina. Still beautiful as always but she no longer had any hair, instead she wore a pretty pink silk scarf over her bald head. She looked even skinnier than the last time he saw her, her eyes seemed sunken in and tired. It pained him to see his mother this way. “Ma?”

 

Carina turned and smiled but it did little to lighten her face that looked like it had aged ten years. “Happy, my boy.” She stood slowly and he crossed the room quickly to help her up. She hugged him tightly, he grimaced at the pressure she put on his wound but made no sound. “It is so good to see you, son.”

 

“Good to see you too, Ma,” he replied, his voice tight with pain. Not the physical pain of the pressure on his wound, but the emotional pain of seeing his mother so sickly. “How are you feeling?”

 

“I’m quite good, today is a good day,” she insisted brightly. “My only son is here to visit, dinner should be finished,” she looked to her sister who nodded. “You must stay for dinner. You’re too skinny.”

 

“You’ve said I’m too skinny since I turned eighteen,” he smiled.

 

“That’s because you left and I couldn’t cook for you anymore,” Carina replied. “You clearly don’t have a woman looking after you.” She tut-tutted and rubbed a grease stain on his shirt.

 

He sighed and sent a desperate look over at his aunt who smiled and abandoned him with his mother. He groaned. “Ma. Please. Just once.”

 

“Who’s going to look after you when I’m gone?” she demanded, her voice breaking and tears welling in her eyes.

 

The sudden question and her emotional reaction to it shocked Happy. In all the years she’d battled cancer never had she let him see her like this. It cut through him like a blade a quick stab right to the heart, serrated and ripping flesh on its way out.  “You’re not going anywhere,” he replied gruffly and hugged her tightly as though she might just slip away if he didn’t.

 

She sobbed against his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she repeated.

 

“You’re going to be fine, just fine.” He said it sternly, commanding the universe to bend to his will.

 

::

 

“It’s back,” Marietta told him quietly while his mother sat alone in the dining room. He paused in the task of refilling his plate in the kitchen. “The cancer.” She frowned and pulled out a file from the drawer and passed it over to her nephew. “Manuel,” she said his middle name softly. “It’s returned in the form of Hodgkin’s disease. She hardly pulled through with breast cancer, had a double mastectomy and at her age,” the words trailed off but Happy understood what went unsaid.

 

“What therapy is she taking?”

 

“She’s refusing it,” Marietta whispered. “Too old, she says.”

 

 _Too broke_ , Happy thought.  He felt like a complete failure being unable to care for his ailing mother. “What does she need?”

 

“Chemotherapy again. Maybe surgery.” Marietta shrugged. “These doctors talk so fast with all their medical words, I’m not sure.”

 

“I’ll talk to her.”

 

“The money.”

 

“I’ll find it.”

 

She took out two bills from the drawer with over-due stamps. “How?”

 

“I’ll figure it out,” he growled. “I’ll figure it out.”

 

“Let it go,” Carina said softly and both Happy and Marietta turned with a start. “It’s okay. Just let it go. No use getting sicker trying to get better. I’m not going to get better,” she told them. “That is just the way it is. Now, come, both of you, let’s finish dinner like a family.”

 

“You can’t do this,” Happy said suddenly. No longer was he the feared and respected man in his early forties but a child facing the potential loss of his mother.

 

“I’m not doing anything,” she defended.

 

“Exactly!” he shouted, desperate to make her see. “You’re not doing anything! You’re sick and you’re not doing anything about it.”

 

“Happy Manuel Lowman,” she said using the stern voice of a mother with her child.  “I’m not going to remain a burden on my son and my sister. This has gone on long enough. Clearly God has decided that-“

 

His temper snapped. “Oh fuck that!”

 

“Happy!” Carina scolded him at the same time Marietta shouted, “Manuel!”

 

Denial had him shaking his head. “You can’t do this!”

 

Carina let out a soft sigh. “It is selfish to continue living like this!”

 

“What’s selfish is letting yourself die when you could get better!” He bowed his head, the emotions of the rest of the day combined with the discovery of his mother’s condition had his eyes becoming damp. Tears. He forgot he even could cry. “It’s selfish to take yourself away from me.” Carina sobbed upon hearing her son’s voice break. She walked across the room and held him close, surprised by the tears against her shoulder. “Ma, don’t give up. Please. For me, please?”

 

And what option did she, a mother, have at that point? Her stoic, strong, self-sufficient only son begging her to fight left her with no option. “Shh, okay, Happy. I’ll fight,” she promised him. “For you, my son, I will always fight.”

 

::

 

Lyla stood by the window that overlooked the trees and long laneway back to the main road. The three children were tucked into their beds and despite the quiet, she felt no peace. A terrible restlessness had settled upon her, refusing to release her from its fearful grasp. She turned when she heard Primo walk over. They stared at each other for a while before Lyla looked away. She crossed the room and grabbed a clean glass and filled it with water. Her hand trembled and instead of drinking it she set it on the counter. Her hands pressed against the wood counter top and she leaned her weight onto them. “What?” she asked softly.

 

He remained quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry this is happening to you.”

 

She looked over at him and found him closer than she had expected. She swallowed hard and stared up into his dark eyes. “Maybe I can just get the money,” she suggested in a whisper. “Maybe I can just talk to him, make him give me more time.”

 

“No. He’d hurt you,” Primo argued, his voice just as low. “He wants to make an example out of you.”

 

Tears fell down her face. “I just want the kids to be safe again. I’ve done this to them.”

 

He shook his head but before he could say anything, her lips were on his. He gripped her shoulders and held her away at arm’s length. The rejection burned and Lyla openly sobbed. She wanted comfort, love, affection. Something other than this dark loneliness. She missed Opie, even when he wasn’t there, she felt safe. She needed someone. She’d always needed someone. Her own weakness crippled her and she pulled out of his arms to find her back against the counter. “I’m sorry,” she managed to get the words past her lips despite her embarrassment and shame.

 

Her tears turned him inside out. He hated it when women cried. He took a step closer to her. “Why? Are you sorry because of what you did or why you did it?” Her open vulnerability cut to his soul but he had to know. “Are you doing this because you’re scared?”

 

She shrugged. “I don’t know,” she whispered with her cheeks ablaze with her humiliation. She knew the answer. She’d developed feelings for Primo after being with him for days on end without break. Little glances, small smiles, stiff conversation that still led her to believe that he cared for her wellbeing beyond his orders to protect her, a genuine kindness. She didn’t want to admit it though, she doubted he had those kinds of feelings for her. Besides, she was a hot mess with three kids, who the hell wanted that?

 

“Let me know when you do,” he told her but stayed where he was for a moment. He took in her beauty, the vulnerability, the tears and the blush. So far, she’d given all the clues and he’d given her nothing. He didn’t like being on such uneven ground. Her bottom lip quivered and he couldn’t help himself. His hand cupped her chin and forced her to look up at him, only when her eyes met his did he lower his lips to slant over hers. With a great need he kissed her, drank from her like a man dying of thirst and as suddenly as he started he pulled away. “Let me know when you do,” he repeated as he turned to leave.

 

The kiss left her dizzy and hopeful for the first time since her relationship with Opie started to crumble. She had her security, his feelings in that kiss gave her that. She reached out and grabbed his arms. “I have my answer,” she blurted. He turned and raised an eyebrow. “I like you. A lot.” She took a timid step closer as her hand trailed down his arm. “I need you. I want you. I’m not good at being alone.”

 

“You could have anyone if you don’t like being alone,” he informed her.

 

“I don’t want anyone,” she whispered, closing the space between them. She took a deep breath. “I want you.” To drive her point home, her fingertips trailed along the top of his jeans.

 

He ran a hand through her hair and studied her face. “Me or my dick?” he asked. At this point, he’d give her either but he wanted the answer first so there could be nothing misconstrued. She did something he didn’t expect, she blushed, the porn star who worked at an escort service blushed.

 

“Both,” she whispered. She was quick to continue, “I get that I’m not in the best place right now. I have men trying to make a message out of me and I have three kids and that complicates things and-“

 

He cut her off by firmly kissing her. “Shut up,” he ordered with a grin. She managed a small smile before his lips once again met hers.

 

::

 

Jax smoked in bed. Satisfied and relaxed for the first time in a long time. He’d had dinner with his wife and sons. He’d played with toy dinosaurs with Abel and read Thomas a story at bed time. He’d watched a movie, snuggled on the couch with Tara after their boys were sleeping. They’d gone to bed, but not to sleep. For the first time in a long time they made slow and sweet love to one another. He held her close after feeling incredibly pleased.

 

She reached out and took the cigarette from his fingertips and took a drag off of it herself. “I enjoyed that,” she whispered. She felt incredibly pleased, her body relaxed and entirely pleasured.

 

He kissed her temple. “Me too.” Simple moments like lying in bed next to each other made him wonder why he spent so much time away. He wanted to change the club, make it better, make it safer. He wanted his family to be happy, safe, to be able to live without fear. She took the final drag and crawled over him to reach out for the ashtray that remained out of reach. She moved just a little, just a little more. He smiled as his lips grazed against her bellybutton. “Keep going babe,” he enticed. She laughed and moved just a bit more and his mouth kissed her intimately. Her breath came out shaky as she just managed to stub out the cigarette before his hands came down upon her hips to hold her in place. “I love the way you taste.”

  
She gripped the headboard tightly and had a feeling that she was going to wake with beard burn in a rather uncomfortable place but at the moment she could find it in herself to mind.

 

::

 

The road, the wind and the motorcycle did nothing for Happy on the ride back to Charming. Nor did the two shots of bourbon before he decided he needed a clear head to deal with the pile of medical bills he had out in front of him. He made a few calls, used a couple of credit cards to buy him a bit of time. He ran his hand over his face and stared at the numbers, trying to will them into a budget that he could manage.

 

He looked up when someone moved behind the bar and he found Indiana staring at the alcohol on the wall. He didn’t advise her not to drink, or on what to drink, he didn’t say anything.

 

“Dad left,” she said monotonously. “Tink too, they went with Angus. Emily stayed. She cried. I heard her.” Happy remained silent as she pulled down a bottle of tequila and turned to face him. “I can’t cry anymore,” she told him. She poured two shots but didn’t touch either. “I doubt this place has limes.” She didn’t look for them, she just looked down at the drink. “Dad is going to tell Dax. He’s going to be upset. Jax is going to have Mac cremated like Mac wanted. Mac is dead. I keep thinking about it. I don’t think I cried enough.”

 

He tilted his head trying to combine this Indiana with the one he’d known so well. She seemed entirely numb to the situation but that seemed perfectly normal. “You lost someone you care about,” he told her quietly, thinking of his mother and how crushed he would be to lose her. “Numbness is a blessing. Embrace it.”

 

She nodded. “I don’t think my ribs could take me sobbing anymore. I don’t think my eyes can take the tears.” She moved the two shot glasses around but didn’t pick either up. “Dad is worried, about Tink, about me. I have to be strong so he doesn’t have to worry so much.”

 

He stared at her and wondered if she’d already had anything to drink but she looked remarkably steady.

 

She put her hand on one of the bills. “Medical bills?”

 

Caught with them, he had no choice but to respond. “My ma’s.”

 

Wordlessly she left. Surprised by her sudden departure, his dark eyes followed her until she disappeared around the corner. A few minutes later she returned with a wad of cash. “Does this help?”

 

“Jesus,” he stared at the wad of cash in surprise. “What the hell?”

 

“It’s five grand… almost five,” she corrected. “I pulled a couple twenties for gas. Does that help?”

 

“I can’t,” he refused to take money from her and at the same time, it would help, it would give him breathing room that he desperately needed from collectors. Need battled with pride.

 

“I can’t do anything for Mac. Let me do this,” she begged. “Let me feel something good again.”

 

Desperation lined her features. He didn’t feel right about it but he couldn’t turn it away with his mother counting on him. “A loan,” he decided it was a compromise he could live with. “You can loan it to me.”

 

She let out a sigh and nodded. “Whenever, it doesn’t matter.”

 

“It’s a lot of money,” he argued.

 

“But it doesn’t matter, Hap. It doesn’t do anything. Doesn’t bring Mac back but if it could help you Ma, if it could keep her, then its power, it has purpose, it gives hope. I need that. See, this is selfish. I need this,” Indiana reasoned. She moved the drinks around again. “I’m not going to drink these,” she told him. “I don’t need them. I’m not going to drink them.”

 

“Okay,” he replied softly.

 

“Are you staying here tonight?” she asked. “It’s stupid. I know Tig is here but…”

 

“You’re scared?”

 

“Not scared,” she replied quickly. She shrugged and appeared vulnerable to him. “Not alone either. I would just, it would just,” she fumbled her words and sighed. “I don’t know, I don’t know what I’m doing, or feeling, or not feeling.” Suddenly her blue eyes were on his. “Do you see me?”

 

He stared at her trying to figure out what she meant. “I’m not blind.”

 

“Dad sees a five year old girl,” Indiana elaborated. “Tink sees frailty. Emily sees a broken toy in need of fixing. Tig sees something he’s been told to guard, in his eyes I might as well be something inanimate. Happy, do you see me?”

 

He understood then. She needed someone to know her inside and out. He didn’t know why but she needed it like he needed the five grand. She’d helped him and in this case he could help her. “I’m staying and I see you.”

 

“Do you promise?” Her eyes searched for any trace of a lie.

 

“I promise.”

 

She nodded and looked down at the drinks. “I’m so tired. It’s all the emotions, you know?” She took a deep breath. “I’m going to bed. You’re staying tonight, you’ll be here in the morning.”

 

He wasn’t sure if she was asking a question or repeating it to reassure herself. “Get some sleep. I’m staying. I’ll be sleeping on the couch or here at the bar if you need anything.”

 

She left the drinks and walked across the bar. She stared at him for a moment, even opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it. Best to keep everything bottled up, safer to keep secrets than expose them, to leave her heart open again. Afraid of her words, of what might slip out, she just nodded her head and walked away.

There is a certain confidence that comes with having an entourage of bikers tailing your vehicle. The thunderous growl threatening everyone around, announcing their presence and creating fear. Ally Lowen’s compact car didn’t make such noises but V-Lin and Phil’s bikes behind her did. Having the Sons as company made her feel much more secure and yet she still felt entirely on edge. Something had to be done about Lee Toric.

 

She parked her car and took a deep breath. With her briefcase in hand she exited the vehicle. The wind brought the scent from the flowerbed over and the place seemed a serene location to just relax for a moment. She had never been one to stop and smell the roses, and with so much on the line she’d be damned if she stopped now. Her long strides took her across the lot and into the restaurant.

 

The fresh-faced young woman behind the counter smiled. “Hello, table for one?”

 

“No, I’m meeting someone,” Ally replied as she looked around. “Diane Loretto, she made reservations. Is she here yet?”

 

The woman looked at the book and nodded. “Yes, Ms. Loretto is right this way.” The woman grabbed a second menu and led the way to a quiet booth by the window.

 

Diane was pushing fifty had her phone to her ear and raised her finger in the universal ‘one minute’ signal. The waitress took it as dismissal and left. Ally nodded and took her seat across from the judge. To pass the time she flipped through the options on the menu. She thought the pasta looked exceptional but her fear of the scale made her settle for the grilled chicken salad with the dressing on the side.

 

“Sorry about that,” Diane said as she returned her phone to her purse. “Some things can’t be avoided.”

 

“Yeah, I know a little something about that,” Ally admitted.

 

The two women played the polite catch-up game until the waitress returned and they were able to order. While their meals were being prepared they knew they would have more time to talk without being interrupted.

 

“So, Ally, what is this about?”

 

“I was wondering if you’ve ever met a US Marshall, or ex-US Marshal now, Lee Toric.”

 

Diane sat a little straighter. “Lee Toric,” the name came almost fearfully off of the judge’s tongue. “Why do you want to know about him?”

 

“As you know, I’m the primary lawyer for the Redwood Charter of the Sons of Anarchy MC,” Ally begun to explain.

 

“Toric is retired,” Diane interrupted. “Why would he be interested in the Sons?”

 

Ally leaned in slightly and lowered her voice. “Tara Knowles, a doctor and wife of the club President was treating the man who killed Pamela Toric, Lee Toric’s sister. He was a club member, she was in the room.”

 

Diane rubbed her temples. “I don’t need to know more than that.” She didn’t want a better view into the MC. She had presided over a few cases of SOA members before and didn’t want anything outside of the courtroom to colour her views. “I take it that Mr Toric didn’t take that death well.”

 

“No, he didn’t,” Ally replied pulling up the sleeves of her shirt to show the bruises on her wrists.

 

Diane’s blue eyes stood out against her grey streaked dark brown hair. Her eyes held sympathy and concern. “His track record for bringing in fugitives was exceptional but he had a history of using excessive force. Still, he was respected among the Marshals and thus instead of receiving a dishonourable discharge he was pushed into retirement by the Director of US Marshal Service so he could maintain his benefits.” She sat up straight and managed a polite smile as the waitress returned with their meals. Her steak and potatoes smelt heavenly and she shook her head at the sight of some miniscule grilled chicken breast on a bed of leaves that sat in front of her companion.

 

Ally used the salad dressing sparingly and picked up her knife to cut the chicken into bite sized portions. “How excessive?”

 

“Started with bumped heads, consistent with having your head shoved into the car when you’re trying to get in. Moved up to full on beatings. One man _escaped_ his care,” she said the word with disbelief. “He was never found.”

 

“Was that the incident that had the agency pushing for retirement?” Ally inquired.

 

“It contributed, added with everything else the Marshals had to do something,” Diane replied. “You said a prisoner murdered his sister, right?”  Ally stabbed her salad and nodded. “Maybe you should talk to the prisoner.”

 

Ally stared longingly at the steak on Diane’s plate before she looked up at the woman. “I’ll try to get visitation.

 

“You shouldn’t have any problem, you are the club lawyer.”

 

“I’m not Otto’s though. He went to prison before I started working for the Sons. From what I hear, he didn’t get along with Rosen, or any other lawyer for that matter. He wanted a public defender and so that is what he has.” Ally sighed. “And talking to him might be difficult. He bit off his tongue.”

 

Diane grimaced and her fork hovered halfway to her mouth for a second. “He bit off his tongue?”

 

Ally chewed on her salad and shrugged. She washed down the bland food with a sip of water. “That’s what I hear.”

 

“If Toric’s history of brutality stands, you might be able to get more information out of that inmate than anyone else.”

 

Ally nodded and put down her fork with a sudden surge of urgency. “Thank you, Diane.” She pulled her wallet out and put down enough to cover both of their meals and tip. “I need to get to the prison before visitation hours end.”

 

Diane gave a curt nod of her head and watched as the other woman hurried out with briefcase in hand. “Good luck, Ally.”

 

::

 

Nomad. The word defined him long before he wore its patch. Quinn still kept it, the patch, tucked into the pocket of his kutte. Despite the fact that the Nomads had been disbanded, that they had scattered to different charters he held onto the hope that once things got cleaned up the Nomad charter would be rebooted. For now, he had more pressing issues.

 

Jax had told them there were four rooms at the clubhouse. Mac’s belongings were still in one and when Quinn tried to put his daughter in one of the empty rooms she just asked to stay where Mac had. He didn’t like it, he didn’t think it was best for her. She looked so lost but this was one issue in which she politely requested and when he denied her, she’d become only more stubborn about it. Eventually, he relented, perhaps she needed to feel close to say goodbye.

 

Rane Quinn couldn’t claim to be the world’s best father and in all his years he’d never had a situation quite like this. He had no idea how to deal with it. He couldn’t combat the depression that hung over his daughter, he didn’t know what to say or how to make it better, or even if he could. So, he focused on what he could handle.

 

A large duffle bag had been hastily packed by Tink for both him and her. He pulled out an extra set of clothes and shoved them into a smaller bag that he could tuck into his saddle bag. When the door opened, he stood up straight and looked over. He’d half expected his daughter. Indiana had always been a ‘daddy’s girl,’ but somewhere along the way, she’d grown up and had become a self-sufficient woman. Instead of his daughter, his wife stood in the doorway.

 

Tink stepped into the room and shut the door behind herself. Out of habit, she locked it before she crossed the room. She paused at the foot of the bed and looked at the small bag he packed. “You’re leaving.”

 

Her words came out a cross between a question and an accusation. What she didn’t sound, was surprised. Quinn extended his hand and she reached out to take it. He gave a slight pull and she stepped closer. “We need more bodies. I can do the run, get the paperwork for release for both myself and Angus.” He pulled her a little bit closer. “I don’t want Dax to hear about this over the phone. He sponsored Mac. They were close.”

 

Tink stared up at her husband. “You’re not riding alone.”

 

Not a question but a statement, bordering on an order. Quinn raised an eyebrow. “No. You’re coming with me.” Her eyebrows shot up. Definitely not the answer she had expected. Her mouth opened just slightly but she couldn’t form a single word. She stared at her husband completely bewildered. He pulled her right up against him and gripped her hips. He’d been terrified when he’d returned to Sanctuary to find the closed sign, his wife drinking straight from the bottle with the tears in her eyes.  He hadn’t been there when she had needed him and he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her alone and vulnerable. “I need you with me.”

 

The sigh she let out carried his name. He threaded his fingers through her short hair and laid his lips upon hers. Her defensive posture melted into complete submission but as always, she gave as good as she got. She kissed him with great urgency regardless the darkness of the day, or perhaps in spite of it. She didn’t tease, she just immediately tugged at his shirt in desperation for skin to skin contact. That frantic need seemed to be contagious and their clothing ended up mingled on the floor.

 

He lowered her to the bed. They both needed this respite. Their words could wait. The situation could wait. He held her close and with their joining they both regained the balance the world had robbed them of.

 

::

 

No one likes having to admit their own personal failure but failure was what brought Jax and Bobby up to the cabin. They parked their bikes but before they could even dismount, the door opened and Kenny raced out. “Jax!” the young boy shouted. “Hey!”

 

“Hey yourself,” Jax replied as he got off his bike. He couldn’t believe how much taller Opie’s son had grown since the last time he’d laid eyes on the kid. “Is Lyla inside?”

 

“Yeah. She’s making dinner,” Kenny replied.

 

The door opened and Primo stepped out with gun in hand. Upon seeing the two Sons, he tucked the firearm back into the back of his pants. “Kenny, get washed up,” Primo ordered. “Dinner is almost done.”

 

Kenny turned away from Primo to stare up at Jax. It was eerie how much the kid looked like his father and it tore Jax up inside. “Are you going to stay a bit?”

 

“Yeah, a little while,” Jax admitted.

 

Kenny immediately smiled. “Cool!” He then rushed off back into the house. 

 

Jax and Bobby followed behind Kenny and greeted the Byz-Lat. Primo frowned the usual cocky arrogance that Jax carried himself with appeared to be all together missing and that worried him. He put his arm out to block the entrance to the cabin. “What happened?” he demanded, his voice low but neutral.

 

“Kane had friends,” Bobby replied quietly and before Primo could say anything, he continued. “We lost one of ours.”

 

Primo absorbed the new information. He shook his head. “Shit. Sorry about your man.” His arm remained blocking the entrance and he struggled to find the right words. While Primo ranked highly in the Byz-Lats’s hierarchy he wasn’t known for his riveting speeches. “She’s scared,” he told them as he let his arm lower. “Try not to freak her out any more than she already is.”

 

Failure, guilt and self-loathing hit Jax. Those who fell under the protection of the club should be safe. The fact that Lyla lived in constant danger left him feeling like he’d broken a promise to Opie, his brother, his best friend, the man who gave his life for him and for the club. He found it to be completely unacceptable. “We will set this right,” he proclaimed.

 

“The sooner the better,” Primo muttered as he led them into the house. “Lyla, Jax and Bobby are here.”

 

Lyla came around the corner wearing an apron over a lovely powder blue dress. “Jax, Bobby, good to see you both. Are you guys staying for dinner? I know it’s a little early but Kenny has a soccer game and I have to get Ellie to the library for a research report.”

 

Flustered, rushed, tired, Jax frowned. She refused to take momentary help from the club even when Jax insisted. She wanted to stand on her own two feet but didn’t she realize that now she had two kids that weren’t even biologically hers to take care of and only her one income? He wanted to help but also understood the need to do something on your own. “No,” he replied. “We’ll stick around but I’m going to try to be home with Tara and the kids for dinner tonight.”

  
Lyla smiled and it made her appear young and vibrant once again. “That’s good. Family is important.”

 

“You sound like my mother,” Jax groaned making Lyla laugh.

 

“Sometimes Gemma is right,” she told him, pointing a wooden spoon in his direction. “So what brings you two out here?”

 

Jax and Bobby exchanged a nervous glace before Jax returned his attention to Lyla. He hadn’t missed how Primo had taken a step closer to Lyla. “We went to see Kane today. It didn’t go as planned.”

 

“All clean!” Kenny said coming in with Piper. “I helped him with the booster stool so he could wash his hands too.”

 

Lyla felt panic rising and it became lodged in her throat. She could read between the lines, the body language and glances Bobby and Jax kept sharing. She managed to tear her eyes away from the Sons and turned to her two young boys. Kenny looked proud and Piper looked nervous. She managed a small smile. “Very good Kenny, thank you for helping Piper. Could the two of you go get Ellie? She’s reading in the back yard.”

 

“Okay,” Kenny replied. “Come on, Piper.” The quiet blond boy shot one more glance at the intimidating bikers before he trailed behind Kenny.

 

Lyla waited until she heard the back door open and close. “Is everyone whole?”

 

“Mac, a recent transfer died,” Jax admitted softly.

 

A small sob escaped Lyla’s lips. Her problems had harmed those around her. She didn’t know that particular Son but it didn’t lessen the pain. Her former addiction, her old debt had put her and the children into the dangerous position, had forced her to go to Jax for help. Because of her, a man was dead. A strong hand grasped her shoulder and squeezed. She looked over at Primo, tears glistening in her eyelashes. She had the strong and sudden urge to hug him, to have him hold her, to give into weakness and sob. The door once again opened and she stood a little straighter, she sniffled and looked around to find a tissue. She settled for a piece of rough paper towel and quickly wiped away her tears and shut down her emotions- a skill she’d learned long ago. She found it much easier to perform in porn when she felt nothing at all. That need to stop feeling was what had led her to the drugs in the first place.

 

The boys returned with Ellie who looked at Lyla curiously. “Are you crying?”

 

“Oh, no,” Lyla forced a small smile. “I just sneezed a few times in a row and it made my eyes water.”

 

Ellie raised an eyebrow but shrugged. “What’s for dinner?” 

 

::

 

The small adjoining bathroom had the essential toilet, sink and shower. The cubical shower unit Quinn and Tink shared only had the space to fit one person comfortably. Quinn’s shoulder kept bumping against the glass or the tile and he was always pressed up against his much shorter wife. “Did you mean what you said?” she asked as she rinsed off the suds from the front of her body.

 

“I rarely don’t mean what I say,” he replied.

 

“What about Indiana?”

 

“Emily is here and when she’s ready to talk, that’s who she will go to. I’ve talked to Jax and he promised that a member of SAMCRO will be here around the clock, so she will physically be protected. I don’t really know what else I can do for her right now,” he admitted. “The only thing I can do is get the transfer and try to recruit more members to SAMCRO.”

 

Tink turned around and tilted her head back to rinse the shampoo from her hair. Quinn’s eyes followed a trickle of water down between her breasts. “I still don’t like the idea of riding alone. We should bring Angus with us.” Before Quinn could protest, she continued. “I’d feel more secure on the road riding with someone else and Indiana would be more likely to go to Emily if she knows that she’s alone.”

 

If it made her feel safe again, he’d do just about anything. “If that’s what you want.”

 

She smiled up at him and rested her head against his chest. “I love you, Rane.”

 

::

 

“This one is Piper’s,” Kenny informed Jax and Bobby, holding up the toy monster truck. “It’s pretty cool and he’s good at sharing.” The boy in question sat on the ground with a colouring book he looked over at the mention of his name. “I got a new comic book,” Kenny continued. “It’s about _Superman_. He isn’t my favourite,” the boy admitted. “But I’m at this part where there is a really cool battle and he’s flying and he’s shooting lasers out of his eyes like _Cyclops_ from the _X-men_!”

 

“Very cool,” Jax told the boy with a smile. Spending time with Kenny was equal parts fun and painful. He doubted the kid even knew just how much he acted and sounded like his father. He looked over to the daughter of Opie and Donna. “How’s that book, Elle?”

 

Ellie looked up and shrugged. “It’s alright.” She blushed, she didn’t really want to admit how attached to the two fictional characters she’d become, or the fact that she really hoped that the two leads got together at the end. “How are Abel and Thomas?”

 

“They’re good. Abel is getting big,” Jax informed her. “Thomas still mostly eats and poops.” Ellie and Kenny both laughed, he even got a little smile out of Piper. Curious about Lyla’s son he looked over where the kid studiously coloured inside the lines. “You’re doing a good job with that, Piper.”

 

The kid froze and looked over. He offered a shy smile. “Thank you,” the kid whispered and then returned to colouring.

 

Jax told Kenny he had to talk to Lyla but would come see him again before he left. On his way back to the kitchen he heard Bobby wowing the kid with his Elvis impersonation. He heard the splashing of Lyla washing dishes and the quiet murmur of Primo’s voice which stopped the moment he walked into the kitchen. Lyla put the last dish into the rack and rinsed off her hands.

 

“Are you alright?” Jax asked with his voice kept low. He didn’t want the children to overhear. Lyla nodded. “Is there anywhere you can go until this is over? The farther away the better. I’m worried about retaliation.”

 

“Kane’s men killed a Son, shouldn’t they be the ones worried?” Primo growled angrily.

 

“We attacked them, they came out on top. Kane had some kind of deal going down, he had a lot more friends than we thought and we came in at the wrong time,” Jax snapped. “Kane wants his money and he has the kind of backing to make her life hell.”

 

“I’ll just find the money,” Lyla said worriedly. “I’ll sell the house or take a loan or something.”

 

“No. We will deal with this,” Jax insisted. “We just need time and I need you safe. You got any family?”

Lyla glared at him. “Not that I would go to.”

 

“They can’t be that bad, Lyla,” Jax countered. “You’re the one that said ‘family is everything.’ The kids are depending on you for a-“

 

“Don’t you dare use that ‘higher-than-thou’ tone with me Jackson,” Lyla snapped and shoved him back a step, not that she had much strength on her side but she did have the element of surprise. “No one has to tell me that those kids depend on me. I’ve been here with them. I was here for them when they lost their father! Not you! You weren’t here when Kenny cried for his dad. You weren’t here when Ellie had nightmares for weeks on end! I was there when Kane shot up the house I’d tried to make a home for them with, I held them when they shook with fear. I love those children! They are my family and I’d do anything for them. My father is all the ‘family’ I have left and it would be a cold day in hell before I went crawling back to that mean son of a bitch!”

 

Jax stared in shock. Lyla had always been completely even-tempered and the sudden burst of anger surprised him into silence. Of course, she was right about him not being around after Opie died. He hadn’t been in the best head space but Ellie and Kenny were his godchildren and he did feel guilty about not being there for them during their grief. “I’m sorry,” he apologized softly. “What about Piper’s dad?”

 

The anger evaporated and Lyla looked to be on the verge of collapse. “Don’t mention him again.”

 

Jax took a step forward and put his hand under Lyla’s elbow, worried that she would simply faint. “You don’t look so well, come and sit down.”

 

“I’m fine,” she pulled away and bumped into Primo.

 

He too noticed how pale Lyla had become at the mention of Piper’s father. He wondered how many skeletons were in her closet. “Come and sit down,” he ordered.

 

Tired and entirely too weak to fight it she followed the command and sat at the kitchen table while Jax grabbed her a glass of apple juice. “I can’t run from this, Jax,” Lyla said softly. “The kids have school. I have work. I’ll go and talk to Kane-“ before she could say anything further both men were protesting profusely their words blurring together as they put forth their arguments to her. 

 

Finally Primo turned to Jax. “I’ll talk to Nero. Next time you hit that bastard, you’re taking some of the Byz-Lats with you.”

 

Jax nodded. “Keep her safe here. I’ll think of something to cripple that bastard.” Lyla watched in dismay as the men talked it out, making decisions about her life had spiraled beyond her control.

 

::

 

While the guards were reluctant, Ally knew the law and how to play it to her advantage. She made a big fuss, spewing legal jargon until the guards relented and allowed her to sit in a private room with Otto. It would be filmed, a guard outside of the door, another behind the one-way glass. Still, she’d gotten what she wanted and so she sat inside the small room until a guard led Otto into the room. His prison uniform crisp and clean despite it being more than halfway through the day, his chains stayed on when they sat him down.

 

“Hello, Otto.”

 

He made a sound by opening his mouth to show her where his tongue used to be. He then raised both hands and half waved with one.

 

She pulled a pad of paper and a pencil out of her briefcase. “I know you bit of your tongue,” she told him. “We’ve never met. My name is Ally Lowen. I’ve worked as the head lawyer for the Sons of Anarchy, specifically the Redwood Original charter for the past few years. I took over for Tom Rosen.”

 

He nodded showing he understood. He reached for the pen and paper and she pushed it closer. She waited while he wrote something on the pad of paper. He turned it around to draw her attention and let her read it easier. _You’re hot._

She smiled. “And you’re a hot mess, Mr Delaney.” She leaned in slightly. “I need to talk to you about a certain someone. I’m worried about how he’s effecting the club, I’m even worried his reach has extended to you.”

 

The pencil touched paper again as he wrote in a quick and messy scrawl. Not bad for a man with limited vision. _Toric._

“Yes,” she confirmed. “Has he been in to see you?”

 

_I’ll slice his fucking throat._

 

A chill ran through her body. “I need leverage, something I can use against him.”

 

He cocked his head as he listened, picking up on her fear. _Personal?_

 

Had it become personal to her? She did her best to keep her own emotions out of a case, out of the business of those she worked for but if she were honest, yes, it had become personal the moment he knocked on her door. Not that she would admit it on camera. “I’m just doing my job.”

 

He gave her a look that told her that he though her reply was complete bullshit. A guard came in. “This is a visit and he isn’t allowed sharp objects.”

 

Ally watched the way Otto tensed at the sound of the guard’s voice. A man prison hardened for years and yet he flinched at the words of a guard? “Well I’m his attorney and how would you expect me to communicate with my client without a paper and pencil?”

 

“You aren’t his defender,” the guard argued.

 

She didn’t look at the guard when he spoke, instead she kept her trained eyes on Otto who looked increasingly uncomfortable. “I am now,” she replied. “I’ll ask for a continuance with the judge on all further trials so that I may catch up with the paperwork. Now leave me with my client and turn off those cameras. My client has the right to his attorney and his privacy.”

 

“You’re insane lady!” the guard snapped. “How the hell will he pay you?”

 

“This is me showing my community spirit,” she replied sardonically. She saw the hint of a smile on Otto’s lips right before she said any client’s favourite phrase. “Pro bono.”

 

“This man stabbed a nurse to death with a fucking crucifix,” the guard argued and she finally looked over. The man’s face had gone red, veins popping in his forehead, hands balled into fists. “He isn’t getting access to sharp objects.”

 

“Are you denying this man the freedom of speech?” Ally argued as she did easily in court. “I will have you up on-“

 

“Fine, fine!” the guard finally relented. “If he stabs you in the throat, that’s your own damn fault.” The guard backed out and Ally turned her attention to the glowing red light on the camera. “Turn it off. Attorney- client privilege!” She waited until the red light turned off before she returned her attention to Otto. “That’s better.” She leaned slightly forward. “Give me something on Toric, Otto. And give me whatever you’ve got on that guard.” His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “He’ll never see it coming.”

 

Otto’s lips curved up into a toothy smile. He ripped off the piece of paper and grabbed the pencil to start writing on a fresh sheet.

 

::

 

Tara advised him not to ride, Happy had simply ignored the advice. Jax had told Happy to take it easy and promised that he would ride with Bobby. Happy didn’t find it possible to ‘take it easy’ when he could see Indiana looking so lost, or worse, those moments where she would hastily wipe away a tear and choke down a sob. So he took some time for himself. The melting of the road, his bike and the wind was better than any pain killer and if there was one place where he could spend an hour just relaxing it was in Bakersfield.

 

He parked his bike and stared at the house bitterly. Gone is the beautiful white home with blue shutters. Instead, he stared at the green house with ugly drapes. His aunt’s home, his mother’s sister. He’d tried his best to keep up with the medical payments but it had all been too much. His years as a Nomad he’d lived as frugally as possible, he owned next to nothing and what didn’t go to motorcycle parts, gas, food or smokes went to his mother but it hadn’t been enough for the mortgage on her home and the medical bills. Something had to give and it had been her home, the house he’d grown up in.

 

His aunt Marietta opened the door and stared out at him. She looked much like Carina, a little older, her hair completely grey and eyes much harder but the same compact figure and pleasant face.  She motioned for him to come in. “Come now, Manuel,” she ordered. Never once had she called him by his first name. ‘‘Happy’ is not a name but an emotion,’ she’d always say. “We are having dinner. Carina will be pleased to see you.”

 

Happy dismounted his bike and pocked his keys as he walked across the yard. He hugged his aunt and kissed her cheek. “Tía Marietta, how is she?”

 

Marietta frowned at the mention of her sister’s health. “Come, see.”

 

Her aversion to just telling him caused him to worry. His mother’s health had gone up and gone down over the years. She’d gone into remission last year and he worried that it would hit her again. He had no savings and a pile of unpaid medical bills, he’d have to do something drastic if it hit again.

 

Marietta led him into the small living room that had an old flower printed couch, a television on an old stand and a rocking chair that faced the sliding glass doors that looked out on a pitiful looking garden that was overrun by weeds. In the rocking chair sat his mother, Carina. Still beautiful as always but she no longer had any hair, instead she wore a pretty pink silk scarf over her bald head. She looked even skinnier than the last time he saw her, her eyes seemed sunken in and tired. It pained him to see his mother this way. “Ma?”

 

Carina turned and smiled but it did little to lighten her face that looked like it had aged ten years. “Happy, my boy.” She stood slowly and he crossed the room quickly to help her up. She hugged him tightly, he grimaced at the pressure she put on his wound but made no sound. “It is so good to see you, son.”

 

“Good to see you too, Ma,” he replied, his voice tight with pain. Not the physical pain of the pressure on his wound, but the emotional pain of seeing his mother so sickly. “How are you feeling?”

 

“I’m quite good, today is a good day,” she insisted brightly. “My only son is here to visit, dinner should be finished,” she looked to her sister who nodded. “You must stay for dinner. You’re too skinny.”

 

“You’ve said I’m too skinny since I turned eighteen,” he smiled.

 

“That’s because you left and I couldn’t cook for you anymore,” Carina replied. “You clearly don’t have a woman looking after you.” She tut-tutted and rubbed a grease stain on his shirt.

 

He sighed and sent a desperate look over at his aunt who smiled and abandoned him with his mother. He groaned. “Ma. Please. Just once.”

 

“Who’s going to look after you when I’m gone?” she demanded, her voice breaking and tears welling in her eyes.

 

The sudden question and her emotional reaction to it shocked Happy. In all the years she’d battled cancer never had she let him see her like this. It cut through him like a blade a quick stab right to the heart, serrated and ripping flesh on its way out.  “You’re not going anywhere,” he replied gruffly and hugged her tightly as though she might just slip away if he didn’t.

 

She sobbed against his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she repeated.

 

“You’re going to be fine, just fine.” He said it sternly, commanding the universe to bend to his will.

 

::

 

“It’s back,” Marietta told him quietly while his mother sat alone in the dining room. He paused in the task of refilling his plate in the kitchen. “The cancer.” She frowned and pulled out a file from the drawer and passed it over to her nephew. “Manuel,” she said his middle name softly. “It’s returned in the form of Hodgkin’s disease. She hardly pulled through with breast cancer, had a double mastectomy and at her age,” the words trailed off but Happy understood what went unsaid.

 

“What therapy is she taking?”

 

“She’s refusing it,” Marietta whispered. “Too old, she says.”

 

 _Too broke_ , Happy thought.  He felt like a complete failure being unable to care for his ailing mother. “What does she need?”

 

“Chemotherapy again. Maybe surgery.” Marietta shrugged. “These doctors talk so fast with all their medical words, I’m not sure.”

 

“I’ll talk to her.”

 

“The money.”

 

“I’ll find it.”

 

She took out two bills from the drawer with over-due stamps. “How?”

 

“I’ll figure it out,” he growled. “I’ll figure it out.”

 

“Let it go,” Carina said softly and both Happy and Marietta turned with a start. “It’s okay. Just let it go. No use getting sicker trying to get better. I’m not going to get better,” she told them. “That is just the way it is. Now, come, both of you, let’s finish dinner like a family.”

 

“You can’t do this,” Happy said suddenly. No longer was he the feared and respected man in his early forties but a child facing the potential loss of his mother.

 

“I’m not doing anything,” she defended.

 

“Exactly!” he shouted, desperate to make her see. “You’re not doing anything! You’re sick and you’re not doing anything about it.”

 

“Happy Manuel Lowman,” she said using the stern voice of a mother with her child.  “I’m not going to remain a burden on my son and my sister. This has gone on long enough. Clearly God has decided that-“

 

His temper snapped. “Oh fuck that!”

 

“Happy!” Carina scolded him at the same time Marietta shouted, “Manuel!”

 

Denial had him shaking his head. “You can’t do this!”

 

Carina let out a soft sigh. “It is selfish to continue living like this!”

 

“What’s selfish is letting yourself die when you could get better!” He bowed his head, the emotions of the rest of the day combined with the discovery of his mother’s condition had his eyes becoming damp. Tears. He forgot he even could cry. “It’s selfish to take yourself away from me.” Carina sobbed upon hearing her son’s voice break. She walked across the room and held him close, surprised by the tears against her shoulder. “Ma, don’t give up. Please. For me, please?”

 

And what option did she, a mother, have at that point? Her stoic, strong, self-sufficient only son begging her to fight left her with no option. “Shh, okay, Happy. I’ll fight,” she promised him. “For you, my son, I will always fight.”

 

::

 

Lyla stood by the window that overlooked the trees and long laneway back to the main road. The three children were tucked into their beds and despite the quiet, she felt no peace. A terrible restlessness had settled upon her, refusing to release her from its fearful grasp. She turned when she heard Primo walk over. They stared at each other for a while before Lyla looked away. She crossed the room and grabbed a clean glass and filled it with water. Her hand trembled and instead of drinking it she set it on the counter. Her hands pressed against the wood counter top and she leaned her weight onto them. “What?” she asked softly.

 

He remained quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry this is happening to you.”

 

She looked over at him and found him closer than she had expected. She swallowed hard and stared up into his dark eyes. “Maybe I can just get the money,” she suggested in a whisper. “Maybe I can just talk to him, make him give me more time.”

 

“No. He’d hurt you,” Primo argued, his voice just as low. “He wants to make an example out of you.”

 

Tears fell down her face. “I just want the kids to be safe again. I’ve done this to them.”

 

He shook his head but before he could say anything, her lips were on his. He gripped her shoulders and held her away at arm’s length. The rejection burned and Lyla openly sobbed. She wanted comfort, love, affection. Something other than this dark loneliness. She missed Opie, even when he wasn’t there, she felt safe. She needed someone. She’d always needed someone. Her own weakness crippled her and she pulled out of his arms to find her back against the counter. “I’m sorry,” she managed to get the words past her lips despite her embarrassment and shame.

 

Her tears turned him inside out. He hated it when women cried. He took a step closer to her. “Why? Are you sorry because of what you did or why you did it?” Her open vulnerability cut to his soul but he had to know. “Are you doing this because you’re scared?”

 

She shrugged. “I don’t know,” she whispered with her cheeks ablaze with her humiliation. She knew the answer. She’d developed feelings for Primo after being with him for days on end without break. Little glances, small smiles, stiff conversation that still led her to believe that he cared for her wellbeing beyond his orders to protect her, a genuine kindness. She didn’t want to admit it though, she doubted he had those kinds of feelings for her. Besides, she was a hot mess with three kids, who the hell wanted that?

 

“Let me know when you do,” he told her but stayed where he was for a moment. He took in her beauty, the vulnerability, the tears and the blush. So far, she’d given all the clues and he’d given her nothing. He didn’t like being on such uneven ground. Her bottom lip quivered and he couldn’t help himself. His hand cupped her chin and forced her to look up at him, only when her eyes met his did he lower his lips to slant over hers. With a great need he kissed her, drank from her like a man dying of thirst and as suddenly as he started he pulled away. “Let me know when you do,” he repeated as he turned to leave.

 

The kiss left her dizzy and hopeful for the first time since her relationship with Opie started to crumble. She had her security, his feelings in that kiss gave her that. She reached out and grabbed his arms. “I have my answer,” she blurted. He turned and raised an eyebrow. “I like you. A lot.” She took a timid step closer as her hand trailed down his arm. “I need you. I want you. I’m not good at being alone.”

 

“You could have anyone if you don’t like being alone,” he informed her.

 

“I don’t want anyone,” she whispered, closing the space between them. She took a deep breath. “I want you.” To drive her point home, her fingertips trailed along the top of his jeans.

 

He ran a hand through her hair and studied her face. “Me or my dick?” he asked. At this point, he’d give her either but he wanted the answer first so there could be nothing misconstrued. She did something he didn’t expect, she blushed, the porn star who worked at an escort service blushed.

 

“Both,” she whispered. She was quick to continue, “I get that I’m not in the best place right now. I have men trying to make a message out of me and I have three kids and that complicates things and-“

 

He cut her off by firmly kissing her. “Shut up,” he ordered with a grin. She managed a small smile before his lips once again met hers.

 

::

 

Jax smoked in bed. Satisfied and relaxed for the first time in a long time. He’d had dinner with his wife and sons. He’d played with toy dinosaurs with Abel and read Thomas a story at bed time. He’d watched a movie, snuggled on the couch with Tara after their boys were sleeping. They’d gone to bed, but not to sleep. For the first time in a long time they made slow and sweet love to one another. He held her close after feeling incredibly pleased.

 

She reached out and took the cigarette from his fingertips and took a drag off of it herself. “I enjoyed that,” she whispered. She felt incredibly pleased, her body relaxed and entirely pleasured.

 

He kissed her temple. “Me too.” Simple moments like lying in bed next to each other made him wonder why he spent so much time away. He wanted to change the club, make it better, make it safer. He wanted his family to be happy, safe, to be able to live without fear. She took the final drag and crawled over him to reach out for the ashtray that remained out of reach. She moved just a little, just a little more. He smiled as his lips grazed against her bellybutton. “Keep going babe,” he enticed. She laughed and moved just a bit more and his mouth kissed her intimately. Her breath came out shaky as she just managed to stub out the cigarette before his hands came down upon her hips to hold her in place. “I love the way you taste.”

  
She gripped the headboard tightly and had a feeling that she was going to wake with beard burn in a rather uncomfortable place but at the moment she could find it in herself to mind.

 

::

 

The road, the wind and the motorcycle did nothing for Happy on the ride back to Charming. Nor did the two shots of bourbon before he decided he needed a clear head to deal with the pile of medical bills he had out in front of him. He made a few calls, used a couple of credit cards to buy him a bit of time. He ran his hand over his face and stared at the numbers, trying to will them into a budget that he could manage.

 

He looked up when someone moved behind the bar and he found Indiana staring at the alcohol on the wall. He didn’t advise her not to drink, or on what to drink, he didn’t say anything.

 

“Dad left,” she said monotonously. “Tink too, they went with Angus. Emily stayed. She cried. I heard her.” Happy remained silent as she pulled down a bottle of tequila and turned to face him. “I can’t cry anymore,” she told him. She poured two shots but didn’t touch either. “I doubt this place has limes.” She didn’t look for them, she just looked down at the drink. “Dad is going to tell Dax. He’s going to be upset. Jax is going to have Mac cremated like Mac wanted. Mac is dead. I keep thinking about it. I don’t think I cried enough.”

 

He tilted his head trying to combine this Indiana with the one he’d known so well. She seemed entirely numb to the situation but that seemed perfectly normal. “You lost someone you care about,” he told her quietly, thinking of his mother and how crushed he would be to lose her. “Numbness is a blessing. Embrace it.”

 

She nodded. “I don’t think my ribs could take me sobbing anymore. I don’t think my eyes can take the tears.” She moved the two shot glasses around but didn’t pick either up. “Dad is worried, about Tink, about me. I have to be strong so he doesn’t have to worry so much.”

 

He stared at her and wondered if she’d already had anything to drink but she looked remarkably steady.

 

She put her hand on one of the bills. “Medical bills?”

 

Caught with them, he had no choice but to respond. “My ma’s.”

 

Wordlessly she left. Surprised by her sudden departure, his dark eyes followed her until she disappeared around the corner. A few minutes later she returned with a wad of cash. “Does this help?”

 

“Jesus,” he stared at the wad of cash in surprise. “What the hell?”

 

“It’s five grand… almost five,” she corrected. “I pulled a couple twenties for gas. Does that help?”

 

“I can’t,” he refused to take money from her and at the same time, it would help, it would give him breathing room that he desperately needed from collectors. Need battled with pride.

 

“I can’t do anything for Mac. Let me do this,” she begged. “Let me feel something good again.”

 

Desperation lined her features. He didn’t feel right about it but he couldn’t turn it away with his mother counting on him. “A loan,” he decided it was a compromise he could live with. “You can loan it to me.”

 

She let out a sigh and nodded. “Whenever, it doesn’t matter.”

 

“It’s a lot of money,” he argued.

 

“But it doesn’t matter, Hap. It doesn’t do anything. Doesn’t bring Mac back but if it could help you Ma, if it could keep her, then its power, it has purpose, it gives hope. I need that. See, this is selfish. I need this,” Indiana reasoned. She moved the drinks around again. “I’m not going to drink these,” she told him. “I don’t need them. I’m not going to drink them.”

 

“Okay,” he replied softly.

 

“Are you staying here tonight?” she asked. “It’s stupid. I know Tig is here but…”

 

“You’re scared?”

 

“Not scared,” she replied quickly. She shrugged and appeared vulnerable to him. “Not alone either. I would just, it would just,” she fumbled her words and sighed. “I don’t know, I don’t know what I’m doing, or feeling, or not feeling.” Suddenly her blue eyes were on his. “Do you see me?”

 

He stared at her trying to figure out what she meant. “I’m not blind.”

 

“Dad sees a five year old girl,” Indiana elaborated. “Tink sees frailty. Emily sees a broken toy in need of fixing. Tig sees something he’s been told to guard, in his eyes I might as well be something inanimate. Happy, do you see me?”

 

He understood then. She needed someone to know her inside and out. He didn’t know why but she needed it like he needed the five grand. She’d helped him and in this case he could help her. “I’m staying and I see you.”

 

“Do you promise?” Her eyes searched for any trace of a lie.

 

“I promise.”

 

She nodded and looked down at the drinks. “I’m so tired. It’s all the emotions, you know?” She took a deep breath. “I’m going to bed. You’re staying tonight, you’ll be here in the morning.”

 

He wasn’t sure if she was asking a question or repeating it to reassure herself. “Get some sleep. I’m staying. I’ll be sleeping on the couch or here at the bar if you need anything.”

 

She left the drinks and walked across the bar. She stared at him for a moment, even opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it. Best to keep everything bottled up, safer to keep secrets than expose them, to leave her heart open again. Afraid of her words, of what might slip out, she just nodded her head and walked away.


	30. Purge

The five grand would keep the wolves from his door but would not end his financial problems. While Happy tried to make a plan, he chain-smoked his way through a pack of cigarettes. Indiana would have no problem fitting the numbers into a budget or telling him he needed to supplement his income. Of course, the little mathematician could barely function and he wouldn’t burden her further with his own problems. The air in the clubhouse had become stagnant and smoky, in effort to clear his head so he could focus on the numbers he went to open a few windows.

 

The gentle breeze brought in cooler air. He welcomed it and even though about going outside for a cigarette but that would be breaking his promise to Indiana. He wouldn’t risk her coming out to find him missing, not after the emotional upheaval she’d gone through. The lot lights were on and illuminated a few motorcycles, the playground and for some reason the lights by the boxing ring were also on. Something didn’t sit right with him. He took a closer look at the lot and after a few minutes he realized that it wasn’t something there that he subconsciously took notice of, but something missing.

 

_Indiana’s car._

 

“Son of a bitch,” he whispered. His long, angry strides ate up space which led him through the bar and down the hall. He banged his fist on the door to the room Indiana should be sleeping in. When he didn’t get an answer, he pushed the door open. “Indiana?” The room and adjoining bathroom were both empty. When he noticed the wide open bedroom window and the removed screen propped up against the wall he cursed low and angry.

 

He forced himself to remain cold and calculated. Where would she go? He rubbed the bridge of his nose. He didn’t know, but he knew who would. He walked down the hallway and knocked loudly. He hoped that Indiana had simply opened the window for some cool air but then decided to go see Emily. _And removed the screen?_ _Keep dreaming._ He hit the door again irritably as his thoughts continued to torment him.

 

A sleepy Emily opened the door in a pair of plaid shorts and an old band t-shirt. “Happy?”

 

“Is Indiana with you?”

 

She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. “What? No. She’s not with me. Isn’t she in her room?”

 

“No. Where would she go?”

 

“Weren’t you out front?” She inquired with a confused expression upon her face. “How did she get past you?”

 

The last thing he wanted was to be answering questions.  “She snuck out the window. Now where would she go?”

 

“I don’t know.”  

 

“You know her better than anyone,” Happy snapped and grabbed the woman’s shoulders. “Where would she go?”

 

“Just give me a second to think!” She chewed on her bottom lip and tried to pull away. “I’ll go get her.”

 

“No. You two were technically on lockdown,” Happy argued in a tone that left no room for debate. “Now where is she? I’ll bring her back.”

 

 “The last person she needs right now is you,” she snapped. “Now get your hands off me!”

 

He didn’t give a damn about Emily’s ire.  “Where is she?”

 

“She just lost Mac, her Old Man for Christ’s sake,” she hissed at him. “You are not what she needs!” 

 

“Well, I’m what she’s getting,” He released the woman and folded his arms over his chest. “The longer we argue, the more time she’s out there alone.” Uttering an oath, Emily turned and picked up her tablet. He stared, confused. “What are you doing?”

 

 “Looking for a club. One that is out of Charming but not so far that it’s an inconvenience.” The tablet lit up her face. “She will gravitate toward one that is in a bad part of town.”

 

“Why?” He wondered out loud as he waited for her to narrow down results.

 

She pushed back some of her dark wavy hair and sighed. “Because she’s wounded and wants to hurt.” He didn’t have time to comment before she continued. “Oh this looks promising,” she turned the tablet so he could see it. “Dark and dingy neighbourhood and this place just got their license back after serving minors.”

 

“You really think she went there?”

 

She shrugged. “It’s where I would start.”

 

“She’s done this before?”

 

Emily’s sigh said it all.

 

::

 

Happy rode into the parking lot of the club Emily had written out the address for. He’d woken Tig before he’d left to make sure Emily didn’t follow him or go out searching for Indiana on her own. It felt like he couldn’t catch a break, trapped in a waking nightmare. He’d watched Mac die for him, been shot, heard Indiana’s gut-wrenching sobs, got stitched up, witnessed his mother’s failing health, been burdened further by more medical bills, and had Indiana terrify him by going off on her own- enough was enough. Exhaustion gave way to complete fury.

 

The rumbling engine of his motorcycle cut out. A club remix with a sultry woman’s voice seeped out of the building. He dismounted the Dyna, adjusted his kutte and took a look around. The small parking lot wasn’t full to capacity which he thought was lucky, luckier still he spotted the bright green Prius that Indiana drove.

 

Familiar laughter came from the alley way. He froze in his tracks. The voices were slurred with alcohol and while loud enough to distinguish at least four different voices, including Indiana’s, they weren’t so loud that he could figure out what they were saying.  The closer he got, the more he heard, just bits of sentences. _‘Sweet little…,’ ‘…the camera,’ ‘I know you wanna…’_ Indiana’s hollow laughter held no actual humour, no spark, no life. 

 

He could conjure an image of her so vividly in his mind, a memory from earlier in the night, her big blue eyes staring right at him while she looked so tired, so hopeless, _‘do you see me?’_

::

 

The flimsy material of Indiana’s dress did nothing to protect her from the cold, hard wall he pressed her up against. Fingers dug into her hips and pinned her to the wall while he kissed a trail down her neck. She thrust her hips slightly in silent demand, indifferent to the man who filmed them.

 

“You want me, Babydoll?” His honeyed voice displeased her. She stepped out only to have the hands on her hips dig in and shove her back against the wall. “You don’t want to leave.” His hands slid over her hips, down her thighs and pushed up the dress.

 

“Not here.” the man wearing a baseball cap hissed. “Let’s get her back to the house.”

 

“Come on! A hot fuck in an alleyway,” the dark haired man with the camera argued.

 

The guy wearing the cap punched the camera man in the arm. “Shut up!”

 

“Relax,” the first murmured as he put his knee between hers. “We’ll show you a good time.”

 

“Take me home,” she whispered, staring blankly over his shoulder.  

 

The men were thrilled with their find. “Okay, Babydoll, we’ll take you home.”

 

::

The scene before him had his blood pumping, hands balled into fists and vision hazed red. The vibrant orange dress had a deep v-neck and a hem-line that barely covered her ass. He appreciated her long, athletic legs which were accentuated by the black stilettos but refocused his attention on the three men she stood with. Apparently any intelligence had abandoned her since she stood with them. All three looked like they could hold their own in a fight but Happy didn’t think any of them were carrying any sort of weapon.

 

The men were laughing, sharing in their delight. The one man pulled Indiana close guiding her to the mouth of the alleyway. The man with the camera moved around to the front to continue filming them as he walked backwards.

 

Happy stormed down the alleyway, the footsteps echoing in the confined space.

 

“Private party,” the guy holding Indiana said with a grin. Indiana stared at Happy with wide eyes, an open mouth.

 

“Hands off,” Happy growled at the guy.

 

“Jesus, he’s a fucking Son,” the cap wearing man muttered, clearly the most nervous of the bunch. “She with you?”

 

“Calm down, you pussy,” the leader held Indiana. “She’s enjoying herself, aren’t you, Babydoll?”

 

“I don’t like repeating myself,” Happy growled. “Hands off.”

 

The leader smiled and held Indiana closer. “Yeah, you going to make me?” he asked, glancing at his two companions before returning his drunken gaze back to Happy with a smirk on his lips. “You and what fucking army?”

 

Happy pulled his gun out of the back of his pants and held it at his side while his thumb flicked off the safety. A quiet, deadly threat. As much as he would love to beat their faces in, and relished the challenge of a three on one fight, he wouldn’t put Indiana into a situation where she could end up hurt.

 

The nervous one put his hands up and took three steps back. “Shit man, we don’t want no trouble.”

 

The leader shook his head and gave Indiana a small shove toward Happy. “Whatever, slut as easy as she is, is probably-“ Happy’s three quick strides and fast fist cut off the sentence. The leader fell to the ground and held his face.

 

“That’s assault,” the camera man said.

 

Happy pointed the gun in his face and held out his other hand. “Camera. Give it.” The camera man’s hand trembled as he handed over the still filming device. Happy smashed the camera on the ground and kicked it behind himself to be retrieved later. “Go back inside,” Happy ordered them.

 

The two men helped up the leader and Happy waited until all three went back inside through the side door. He looked Indiana over, tousled hair, red cheeks, and glossy eyes. Shocked but unharmed, he decided. “Fucking stupid.”  He stepped around her and crouched to grab the broken camera. After turning it this way and that, his temper shot through the roof.  “Where is the fucking tape?” he shouted.

 

Indiana staggered over and made a ‘give me’ hand motion. Admitting defeat, he passed the camera and watched her slid the bottom off and removed a SD card. He grabbed the camera and heaved it down the alleyway. It missed the dumpster but hit the wall and then the hard ground. He put the SD card into his kutte to be destroyed.

 

With his hand around her wrist he dragged her from the alley. “What the hell were you thinking?” He didn’t expect an answer, after all, there couldn’t be a good reason for her reckless behaviour. Her pulse beat quickly under his fingers as he led her toward the Prius. “Since when are you so fucking stupid?” Her weight dropped and he paused briefly only to yank her back to her feet. Tucked protectively under his arm, he guided her the rest of the way to the car. The scene in the alleyway taunted him. Fingers clenched and bit into her skin, he kept her at his arm’s length, putting her back against the vehicle. “Why the hell did you sneak out? Why did you come here?” She shook her head and tried to pull her arms away and his grip tightened “Do you understand what they would have done to you?”

 

“You’re hurting me,” she told him.

 

“And what the hell did you think they were going to do to you?” he demanded. She turned her face away from him and he stepped in, pressing his body against hers as he took her chin in his hand and forced her to face him. “You want to be some classless fuck-“

 

The colour in her cheeks drained. “I’m going to be sick,” she said quickly, squirming to get away.

 

He backed up a step before she bent over, her spine curved as she retched. He didn’t back up fast enough though and ended up with vomit on the bottom of his jeans and on his left boot. He looked skyward. It would be a long night.

 

::

 

Exhausted and furious, Happy took them to the nearest motel and booked a room. Outside of the office he lit up a cigarette and pulled out his phone to call Tig.

 

 _“This chick’s pacing is driving me nuts,”_ Tig answered. _“Tell me you found Quinn’s kid.”_

 

“Yeah,” he replied. He pulled out some change and fed the vending machine. “She’s drunk, but fine.”

 

_“Good. You driving back tonight?”_

 

“Tomorrow,” Happy answered. He purchased a bottle of water and a toothbrush/toothpaste combo in a little plastic package.  “We’ll drive both vehicles.”

 

 _“Alright,”_ Tig replied.

 

He ended the call and took the last drag off his cigarette. He stubbed it out under his boot and carried the vending machine purchases with him when he walked back to the car.  The beautiful mess sat in the vehicle with her feet on the ground. Any pity for her was quickly squashed by the weight of his anger. “Come on.” He grabbed her upper arm and hauled her roughly to her feet.

 

He led her to the room and paused to remove his boots. Guilty eyes avoided his and he huffed out a breath. They walked into the room and he locked the door behind them. A quick look around showed the basics; queen sized bed, nightstand, chair, table, and dresser with a television sitting on top, a watercolour painting on the wall, and a small bathroom off to the side. Nothing fancy but far from the worst place he’d ever had to spend a night.

 

The long flow of her blonde hair drew his attention which drifted to the way her dress hugged the slight curve of her hips. Seeing her down the alleyway with three men hadn’t just angered him, but terrified him. Her stupidity, her reckless behaviour showed no sign of self-preservation. Worse, based on what Emily had told him, he knew she’d gone out looking for trouble.  

 

He stepped around her, needing to gauge her reactions. “What the hell were you hoping to accomplish coming here tonight?” the dark anger in the whisper shot a shiver down her spine. She didn’t answer and wouldn’t meet his eye. He moved slightly and she looked away. “Indiana,” he growled her name as he caught her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him once again.

 

“Why did you come?” she snapped and pushed her hands against his chest. Despite the heat the push had, he didn’t move. “Why are you here?”

 

“Because you left and I was supposed to watch you.”

 

“Tig was-“

 

“I was there,” Happy cut her off. “You made me promise to stay.”

 

She laughed, bold but humourless. She leaned in and he could smell the alcohol and sickness on her breath. “Staying isn’t your strong suit, Hap,” she slurred.

 

He glared. “Are you questioning the worth of my word?”

 

“Na. Your word is golden,” she replied as her face paled considerably, her eyes watering. “But I’m just the classless fuck, right?” She breezed past him in a mad dash to the bathroom. After grabbing the supplies from the table he followed and found her sitting on the floor looking wearily at the toilet. “I think I might be sick.”

 

The mention of her being sick had him looking down at the bottom of his jeans, the one leg still had remnants of her stomach contents. Disgusted by the state of his jeans he removed them and stood in his boxers, t-shit and kutte.  He caught her eye and she quickly looked away. He tossed the jeans into the tub figuring he’d get around to washing the cuff off later. He cracked open the water bottle and held it out. She looked at him and then at the offering, she shook her head. “Drink it,” he ordered.  

 

“No.”

 

Brown eyes warred with blue. “Well at least brush your teeth then,” he demanded. “Your breath smells like road kill.”

 

Her face lost all colouring. She moved to her knees and threw up in the toilet. A whimper escaped her lips as she reached up to flush. Desperate, watery blue eyes turned to him. Despite everything that had happened between them over the years, the good and the bad, he knew just by that look that she still trusted him completely.

 

With care, he removed the stilettos from her feet and set them aside. “Are you going to be sick again?” His eyes ran up her legs, he frowned at the little cuts on her knees from when she fell while he had dragged her across the parking lot.

 

“No, at least not right now,” she replied.

  
He helped her to her feet and stood by her as she brushed her teeth. Once again, he pushed the water at her and this time she took a small sip. “Anything stronger?” she asked looking over at him.

 

“I think you’ve had enough,” he replied.

 

She turned her back on him as she sauntered into the bedroom. “I think I’m old enough to decide that on my own. I’m twenty-seven, Hap, in case you’ve forgotten.” She crouched before the mini-bar and pulled out two of the small bottles of vodka, stood back up and twisted the cap off the first.

 

“You’ve had enough,” he snapped and grabbed her wrist before she could drink.

 

“Mac died today.” Grief-stricken eyes narrowed at him. “You don’t get to tell me when I’m drunk enough to deal with that.”

 

“This is how you plan on dealing with it?” he snarled at her. Any control of the situation snapped with his temper. “Getting drunk and skipping out of Charming and getting fucked by three strangers?” he shouted. “Is that’s how you are going to deal with it?”

 

Her lower lip trembled. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

 

“I drove out here, half out of my mind with worry about your ass, so yes, you do owe me an explanation.” He grabbed her and shoved her up against the wall, pinning her with his body. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

 

“You want to know what the fuck I was thinking?” she lashed out. “I was thinking about the fact that Mac deserved so much better than me. Something went wrong today, and when everyone came in I could sense it, I could feel it. Did I look for him like I should have, like any good Old Lady would have?” She leaned in as far as she could with her arms still pinned to her sides. “No, I was fucking looking for you. I thought something had happened to you and it fucking gutted me.”

 

He stared, shocked by her admission. The Quinn flaw- the honest drunk.

 

“Mac loved me. He loved me so much.” The tears slipped from her unfocussed eyes. “But I wasn’t good enough, I didn’t love him enough, I couldn’t keep him.”

 

His eyes narrowed as he listened. “Keep him?” His hands slipped down her arms and he grabbed the bottle of vodka from her hand.

 

“He strayed.” She shook her head. “Doesn’t count. Happened on a run.”

 

“He fucked around?” Disbelief coloured his voice. Being a Son he understood the rules but being the son of a single mother, he respected women and knew if he ever staked claim on one that he’d be loyal.

 

“Happened on a run,” she repeated. With her freedom she returned to the mini-bar and retrieved two more small bottles. She opened the first and downed it. She passed by him and sat on the bed.  “I couldn’t be what he wanted,” she admitted as she stared down at the second bottle in her hands. “Nor what he needed.”

 

Discovering the intimate details about her personal life left him feeling incredibly uncomfortable. He had built boundaries in his mind when it came to Indiana, not that they hadn’t all come crashing down before but he really wanted to shut down the line of conversation.  “I don’t need to know this.”

 

“It’s your fault.” Three words condemned him.

 

“I didn’t ask him to take those rounds,” he shot back, wishing he had a better target for his anger.

 

“It’s not your fault he died,” she told him.

 

Knowing that she couldn’t help the perfect honesty that came out, he felt relieved. Having her absolve him of guilt meant more than what anyone else could ever say. “Then what is my fault?” he asked, curious but worried about her answer.

 

“Because of you, I knew what it could be.”

 

“What?”

 

“Sex,” she replied bluntly. “You weren’t my first. I didn’t enjoy my first.” Her eyes became slightly unfocussed. “It hurt, he said nice things, he tried to take care. And then _his_ ghost was touching me too. _Good girl_.” She shuddered and stared down at the bottle like it held her salvation. “But then there was you and only you.” Her eyes cut over to him. “Possessing me.”

 

Even after all these years, he still felt guilt for taking the forbidden fruit to begin with. She’d been young, nineteen going on twenty, and the daughter of a friend. He’d been old enough to know better.

 

“And then there was Mac. And I loved him. I did. It wasn’t enough, I didn’t love him enough. He was gentle, and sweet and kind. I couldn’t tell him, Hap. I couldn’t tell him about the ghost, the one that kept touching me. I couldn’t tell him to stop calling me his _‘good girl.’_ Couldn’t tell him,” she sobbed, her knuckles becoming white from her grip on the bottle. “He wouldn’t want me anymore, not if he knew and I need him to want me.” She uncapped the bottle in her hand and quickly downed the alcohol that burned all the way down.

 

Happy ran his hands over his face and wished for some kind of clarity. More, he wished she’d just pass out, his life would currently be so much easier if she were unconscious.

 

She fell back and stretched out her lithe body. “I must not be any good,” she said staring up at the ceiling. “Guys get scared off, or get tempted during a run and you had been with dozens of Croweaters but you didn’t regret them. Just me.”

 

“Indiana-“

 

“Or maybe it’s because you know,” she continued on as if she didn’t hear him. “Did it disgust you knowing I’d been violated?”

  
“That’s enough,” he snapped. Sickness unfurled in his stomach but it had to do with the fact that a child had been hurt, not because he thought her undesirable.

 

“Did I ever thank you?” she asked, her inebriated thoughts coming out as they came. “For ending him?” She propped herself up on her elbows. “My teacher,” she whispered in clarification, like he might have forgotten.

 

He shook his head trying to clear it. “That isn’t something you ever have to thank me for.”

 

She sat up and rested her elbows on her knees. “I do. I am thankful,” she whispered. “And I’m sorry.”

 

“Sorry? For what?”

 

Her hand scratched at her opposite wrist. “It shouldn’t have happened. If I’d been stronger or smarter or just… I should have stopped it and you would never have had to-“

 

He closed the space between them and grabbed her wrist to stop her from scratching at what had become a large red mark on her tanned skin. “That’s enough.” He crouched down in front of her. Her words haunted him, ripped into the protector within. He’d do anything to release her from the feelings related with the man who had molested her. “You were a child.”

 

A small sob escaped her lips and her forehead rested against his. “All I had to do was tell Dad. Dad would always make anything better. I was so scared. It’s so stupid but I was so scared. He told me that I was special. Such a good girl.” A sob broke the words that cut through his soul. “He touched me and told me that my Daddy wouldn’t love me anymore if he knew. He was gentle. I could have run. I could have screamed. I could have said something to Dad or to Tink earlier.”

 

The desire to hold her, to tuck her away and keep her safe overwhelmed him. He wanted to pull her into his arms but worried about her current state of mind. Instead, he ran his thumb over the wrist he still held. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”

 

She pulled away, just enough so she could look into his eyes. “He’s in every bedroom, with every lover I’ve ever had.” She shook her head. “Except you.” Her shoulders slumped like every admission lessened the weight on them.  “Except you,” she repeated before she lightly pressed her lips against his, almost immediately she sobbed and pulled back a fraction. “Please don’t go,” she begged him. “Don’t abandon me right now,” her fingers tangled in his shirt. “I need you, please.”

 

He rose just enough to sit on the bed with her, he pulled her onto his lap and held her tight. “I’m not going anywhere.” He ran his hand through the lower half of her hair. “I’ve got you.”

 

Her body shook and the tears were silent. “I wanted those men to hurt me,” she admitted quietly.

 

Instinctively, his arms tightened around her. Rarely did he feel fear, so rarely that it took him a moment to identify that it was what he currently felt. What happened to the self-assured, brilliant, strong young woman he knew years ago?

 

“Emily thinks I have a problem with gentle. Mac was gentle, you know.” She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder. “He loved me so much, how was I supposed to tell him that I want it to hurt? How was I supposed to explain that when it’s rough my head can’t play games with me? I couldn’t tell him. Em suggested that I get drunk and tell him but _everything_ comes out when I’m drunk. Besides, the truth makes me feel dirty and wrong and broken, I didn’t want him to know the truth.” Suddenly she pulled away and looked at him shamefaced. “Sorry. Like I said, everything comes out when I’m drunk.”

 

“I know, you’re a Quinn.” Her lower lip trembled and she sucked it in. He pulled her head back to his shoulder and rubbed his fingertips along her skull. “You’re going to be okay, kid.”

 

“Don’t call me that,” she violently shoved at his chest but he pulled her back. “Don’t fucking call me that! I’m twenty-“

 

“Seven, twenty-seven, got it,” Happy cut her off. Her stormy blue eyes narrowed at him. “I’m sorry.” Placated, he felt the tension drain from her posture. “Hellcat,” he muttered under his breath.

 

“I kind of like that. _Hellcat_ ,” she repeated. “It’s definitely a step up from ‘ _kid_.’”

 

“Anything else you want to get off your chest?” he asked rhetorically.

 

“Gemma scares the hell out of me,” Indiana admitted. “Don’t know why, she just does.”

 

He barked out a short lived laugh. “Everyone has that reaction to Gem.”

 

She remained so quiet and still he thought she fell asleep in his arms. “Hap?” she broke the silence and it surprised him.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Did you care about me at all?” she asked sounding afraid, like opening herself up to the answer could destroy her.

 

“’Course.”

 

“Then I am a bad lay,” she said miserably.

 

He hated the way the conversation kept circling, the way her mind kept tormenting her and in her drunken state insisted on tormenting him as well. He decided to put an end to it once and for all. “You’re a goddamn walking wet dream.”

 

She shivered at the combination of his words, his voice, and the hot breath against the shell of her ear. “That’s a nice thing to say.”

 

With a growl of impatience, he flipped her onto her back and hovered over her. Her wide eyes studied him with curiosity, much like she had the first time he’d shown sexual interest in her. Not fear, just pure curiosity, like she couldn’t quite believe what was happening. His lips crashed against hers and she immediately responded. His hand ran up her ribs, the fabric of her dress felt expensive and light. His thumb skimmed over the swell of her breast and he could feel the lace of her bra underneath. He pulled back, all the usual reasons in place plus one more.   “You’re drunk.”

  
“I think we established that about the time I puked on your jeans.”

 

He groaned. “Thanks for that reminder.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

He smiled, just a little. “You should get some sleep.”

 

“Do you see me?” she asked sounding dire.

 

And he did. Now more than ever. “I see you, Hellcat.”

 

“Will you stay?”

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he replied. “I don’t want to drive your fucking car again.”

 

She smiled. “I like it. It’s very good on gas.”

 

He shook his head and backed off the bed. “Sleep.”

 

“Bossy.”


	31. Dangerous Territory

Chibs smothered his wife’s moan with a kiss as she rode him to completion. His arms tightened around her and held her close as they panted for breath. Wild curls tickled his neck as her head rested against his shoulder. Her hot breaths caressed his shoulder. The early morning light filtered through the small, dusty basement apartment window and illuminated the space enough to see each other without turning on a light. ‘Natural ambiance,’ Fiona had called it. She raised her head just enough to kiss his jaw. “I’ve _really_ missed that,” she stressed with a large smile on her face.

 

“Me too,” Chibs agreed as he ran his hands over his wife’s hips. The simplicity in the beauty of the moment rocked him for a second. He needed this. A space away from the world, his gorgeous, funny, intelligent wife there with him. A moment, just a moment when the world didn’t feel like it was going to shit, instead, it was a moment of salvation. He inhaled the scent of her and indulged in the feel of her soft skin.

 

“We should get showered,” Fiona murmured, her lips leaving a few soft kisses.

 

Chibs didn’t want to move. He’d much rather stay in bed, holding his wife all day long. Unfortunately, their cards never held mediocre normalcy. “Aye.”

 

“I doubt anyone is up yet,” Fiona whispered and he heard the mischief in her tone. “If we move real quick I bet we could share a shower.”

 

The facial scars nearly hid the dimples when he smiled. “For the good of the group we should, bet this place has a small hot water tank.”

 

“And we’d be conserving water.” Her smile lightened something within him. “What good people we are.”

 

::

 

Kerrianne rubbed sleep from her eyes as she left the bedroom. She heard the shower running and assumed that Trinity was inside. She looked into the dingy kitchen and sighed. A strong yearning for home hit her and she sniffled. Didn’t do any good to get upset about it, she told herself. She walked into the living room to find that her parents weren’t the only ones still sleeping. She stared for a moment at the sleeping form of Juice. He slept shirtless, his jeans still on but the top button undone. She bit down on her bottom lip and felt a little guilty as her eyes raked down his chest. With the full house, she could use assistance making breakfast with what meager food they did have stocked. She stood beside the couch and bent slightly at the hip.  “Juice?” she tried to keep her voice down, wanting to wake him, not her parents. “Juice? Juan!” His dark eyes opened and Kerrianne smirked. Go figure he could make sleepy look sexy.  “Good morning, Sunshine.”

 

A slow, lazy smile fitted his face. His fingers twisted around a curl of her hair that grazed against his chest. “G’morning,” he replied. She stood straight and tucked her hair back behind her ears. He covered his mouth when he yawned and then stretched out.

 

Kerrianne nearly swallowed her tongue. She picked up his shirt from the floor and tossed it at him. “Have some decency.”

 

“Sorry,” he muttered as he sat up and pulled the shirt over his head.

 

She frowned at his all too quick apology. “It’s not an issue, I’m just razzing you.”

 

He shot her a sleepy smile. “Am I the last one up?”

 

“No. Trini’s in the shower. My parents are sleeping.” Her face screwed up in a grimace. “At least I hope that’s what they’re doing.” To Juice’s credit, he managed to bite back laughter. “Want to help me with breakfast?”

 

“Yeah, sure.” He ran his hand over his mohawk. “I must warn you I can’t make anything that doesn’t involve grilling something or shoving fruit into a blender.”

 

She patted his hand in a condescending fashion and sauntered off. “I’m sure we’ll manage.”

 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you when the drapes catch fire,” he replied as he followed her into the kitchen.

 

They managed toast and butter with tea just fine. Neither felt particularly excited about the meal but it was all they had. “Seriously, grocery shopping needs to happen,” Kerrianne said as she added a third scoop of sugar to her tea. Juice tried a sip of his and frowned. Noticing his face, Kerrianne raised a brow. “Don’t like it?”

 

A half-shoulder shrug. “’S’alright. I’d just prefer coffee or a smoothie.”

 

She smirked and then frowned when she heard a door down the hall open. “Are you and my Da okay now?” she whispered fearfully. The entire situation was difficult enough without having her father and her friend fighting.

 

He fought to find an answer, his gaze averted to his tea and he shrugged. “We weren’t on the best of terms before he found out that I was talking to his precious daughter.”

 

Not a single word held malice against her father nor was there sarcasm about her being ‘precious,’ instead, he said it like it was the clearest fact. She had a hard time remembering things about her father from childhood and then he’d come back into her life late in her teenage years. She loved her father regardless but was surprised that his adoration had been made clear to his friends. “What happened?” she asked curiously.

 

He shifted uncomfortably. They heard the footsteps in the hall and both stood a little straighter. She grabbed a slice of buttered toast and took a bite.

 

“Ah, good morning,” Fiona said smiling at the two of them.

 

Kerrianne stared at her mother and father who both sported wet hair. Her mouth fell open. “You two were in the shower!”

 

Chibs quickly averted eye contact. Fiona sighed. “Well, we are married. And would you like to know how you were conceived?” Chibs cleared his throat and shot his wife a disbelieving glance.

 

Horror came over the teenage girl in a wave. “No, I’m blocking that from my mind as we speak,” Kerrianne said as Juice flew past her and between Chibs and Fiona.

 

“Jesus!” Chibs looked over his shoulder. “What’s his rush?”

 

“Son of a bitch!” Juice cursed from down the hall.

 

“What the hell is going on?” Chibs demanded.

 

“I thought it was Trinity in the shower, I told him it was her in the shower,” Kerrianne said as dread settled like a heavy weight in her stomach. “She’s not here. Trini’s gone.”

 

::

 

Trinity Ashby would be damned if she’d board a plane to California while her mother remained missing and at the mercy of the IRA. She couldn’t remember her father, her biological one. John Teller meant nothing to her. Jackson Teller, his son, her half-brother, meant little. A nice enough man during what little time they’d spent chatting but ultimately they were strangers. Maureen Ashby, her mother who had worked so hard to keep a roof over their head, who had bought her toys, made her soup when she was sick, laughed with her over stupid movies and held her when things got rough. Her mother; teacher, friend, and protector. No, she wouldn’t leave without the only family that mattered.

 

For the first time in a long time, she wished McGee was around. He’d helped her with homework sometimes. He would stick around for dinner, occasionally even watch a movie with them. The house always felt safer when he was around. In this instance, she could have gone to him. She would tell him everything and he would be able to get her mother back, he’d loved her, hadn’t he?

 

She knew that Chibs and Fiona meant well. That they would try to get her mother back, but their family would come first. She knew Fiona, a teacher, friend and protector in her own right and she knew that Fiona would use those skills to make sure her husband and daughter were safe first. Trinity, however, would be the only person to put Maureen first. And so, she’d set out on her own. Slipped out of bed while Kerrianne slept soundly, the exhaustion keeping her under even when Trinity had slid open the small basement window and shimmied out. She’d thought about the door but while she knew Kerrianne slept like the dead, she had no guarantees about Juice who slept on the couch.

 

Maybe her going off on her own was for the best. Belfast was her city. She could blend, she knew her way around and she knew the shop keeps who would do anything to help. First, she wanted to stop in with SAMBEL- or what was left of them. McGee had been one of theirs, she’d hung around enough back then to be a known party, maybe one of them could help.

 

::

 

It was settled. Not to Chibs’s satisfaction, but he knew further argument would only waste precious time. Fiona wouldn’t leave without Maureen and Kerrianne refused to leave without Trinity. The only option Chibs had was to find both.

 

The four, Chibs, Fiona, Kerrianne and Juice set out to find Maureen, figuring since they were looking for the same thing, they would find Trinity along the way. First stop, Fiona insisted, would be Ashby’s Provisions. Since Kerrianne had worked there, she knew that the shop was equipped with video surveillance. Kerrianne couldn’t identify any of the men, but Fiona, third generation IRA bet she could.

 

After getting off a bus Fiona hung back with Juice, sensing her husband’s ire at the entire mess of a situation. She nudged her daughter who walked in time with her. “Go walk with your Da, yeah?”

 

Kerrianne pulled out of her own thoughts to look over at her mother. “What?”

 

“Your Da. Go walk with him a bit,” Fiona repeated. “He’s in a foul mood but he’s waited a long time to see you.”

 

She nervously tugged at her hair. “He’s so angry,” she whispered. “I’m part of that. I want to stay for Trini and for Mo. And then there is-“ she trailed off as she glanced at Juice. “I just, I don’t know what to say to him.”

 

“Compliment the sheep sweater,” Fiona jested.

 

“Ma! Now is not the time for teasing.”

 

Fiona clasped a hand over her daughter’s shoulder. “Whatever you say will be fine. Just go talk to him. Get him out of his head.”

 

“Why are you sending me?” The young woman inquired. “You would know how to deal with this much better!”

 

“Because, right now he’d just snipe at me-“

 

“And he won’t me?”

 

“No,” Fiona insisted. “Now go.”

 

Kerrianne nodded, took a couple of quick steps, slowed while she fiddled with her hair and then jogged to catch up and then fall in line with her father’s angry strides.

 

“How has he been?” Fiona asked Juice now that her husband and daughter were walking up ahead.

 

“Good,” he replied on automatic reflex. He remained quiet as he gave the question more thought. “A little stressed, club business. He always carries this weight around, this constant worry for you and Kerri.”

 

“Club business,” she dug in wanting to feel it out. “How dangerous is it?”

 

“It’s not a book club,” he shrugged.

 

“That’s so specific and helpful, it puts my mind at ease,” she replied dryly.

 

“It certainly isn’t as dangerous as being here. And there, we have our brothers.”

 

Fiona took in a deep breath. She didn’t really like the idea of leaving North Ireland. She’d miss it; the green, the sense of humour, the familiarity of living in the city she’d grown up in. Admitting that there was nothing left for her in a place she’d long called home hurt.

 

Looking ahead, she saw Kerrianne put her hand on her father’s arm and shove a little. He responded by putting his hand on her head and mussing up her curls which she quickly tried to set to rights. Fiona smiled, a warmth filled her heart as she watched her husband and daughter goof around.

 

She’d make a new life, in a new country, new town and she relished the opportunity to have a fresh start with her husband. Her family, once again would be whole, living together under one roof. Such a simple thing, togetherness. Something most families took for granted. She wouldn’t. Not ever again.

 

“Fiona?” She turned to Juice to see the muscle in his jaw jump. “Across the street there are two guys in suits. They’ve been walking the same way as us for three blocks. I’ve caught them looking over here more than once.”

 

“Right,” she replied as she slowed and glanced at a window display. She paused to stare at it, using the glass for the reflection. The men had paused but now one split off, quickly walking ahead to keep pace with Chibs and Kerrianne. “Damn it,” she whispered. She turned back to Juice, only to inadvertently look across the street. Her eyes met with Cain, a man she’d once known. A man who had once worked directly under Jimmy. “Shit.”

 

Juice looked over his shoulder as the man pulled a gun from his shoulder holster. He quickly grabbed Fiona and dragged her into the nearby alcove for cover. “Chibs!” He shouted. “Guns!” He poked his head out in time to see the second man crossing the street. Chibs grabbed Kerrianne and looked over his shoulder at Juice. Chibs nodded, just once, before dragging his daughter inside of the nearest building. That one nod gave Juice the hope that things between him and his best friend could be salvaged. That nod held trust, an order and Juice- after being friends with the Scot for so long, understood. Juice grabbed Fiona and quickly made a dash out as a tourist group walked past.

 

“What? No! We’re going the wrong way!” Fiona insisted.

  
“Shh! We’ll meet back up with them,” Juice continued to drag her along and ducked into an alleyway. “Come on!”

 

They ran down the dark alley until they came to a chain link fence. Juice gave the door a shake, the chain and lock around it rattled. He let out a low and foul curse before whipping his head around to the sound at the end of the alley. He stood with his back against the fence, bent his knees slightly and cupped his hands. “Up and over.”

 

Fiona stared at the young man, friend to both her husband and daughter. “What about you?”

 

“I’ll climb over after you. Come on, hurry!”

 

She looked over her shoulder at Cain running down the alley. Cain, the man who did the dirty work that even Jimmy didn’t want to do. From the moment she’d met the sadistic bastard, he’d struck fear into her heart. With panicked gracelessness she put her boot in Juice’s cupped hands, one hand on his shoulder, the other on the fence as he gave her the boost to get over. She pulled herself up only to get her boot lace caught on the top of the fence. She let out a distressed cry.

 

The fence shook as Juice clambered up and made hasty work of untangling her boot lace. “Go! Go!” he shouted.

 

She dropped down, gracelessly slamming her knee against the ground before she stumbled back to her feet. The desire to be reunited with her husband and daughter along with the intense fear of Cain had her ready to sprint.

 

“Ah! Fuck!”

 

Juice’s cry had her whirling back around. He was on the ground, on the wrong side of the fence and Cain stood over him _. Smiling._

 

::

 

Chibs dragged his daughter through the retail store, he ignored the looks of customers as well as the shouts of employees. Only one thing currently mattered, keeping his daughter safe. He pulled her ahead of him and pushed her forward as they ran through the stock room. “Keep going,” he insisted. “There has to be a delivery bay back here.”

 

She made a sudden sharp turn to the left. “The way the street is set up, the bay won’t be at the back, it’s on the side.” Pride filled him, his girl managed to keep a level head while they were in the middle of chaos. “Over here,” she insisted as she burst through the door that brought them into a wide alley. She looked right and then left. “Where?”

 

“This way,” he insisted grabbing her arm and dragging her the shortest distance back to the street. They merged back in with pedestrian traffic and slowed to a normal pace.

 

He suddenly pulled her into the nearest shop and she almost fell. “A little warning next time, yeah?” she scolded while she tried to get her breath back.

 

“They’re looking for us,” he said in a low voice as they went down the aisle. “They know what we look like and what we are wearing, or were wearing five minute ago,” he said as he took down a dark blue hoodie. “Find something quick.” She grabbed the nearest sweater in her size, a soft baby blue pullover and a grey beanie. Chibs paid for the items and Kerrianne changed in the room while Chibs abandoned one hoodie for another.

 

“Is this why you ended up with a sheep sweater?” Kerrianne asked when they walked out on the street again. “A quick dive into a store.”

 

“The kid does have the right idea sometimes,” Chibs agreed.

 

She had stuffed as much of her hair into the beanie as she could manage but a few tangles still spilt out. In her old nervous habit, she twisted the curl around her fingers. “Da? When you came to Belfast, back when you were searching for Abel, you and Juice were tight, best of friends.”

 

He sighed, sensing where this was going. “Aye.”

 

“What happened between then and now?”

 

“It’s complicated, Kerri.”

 

“And the rest of my life isn’t?” she shot back.

 

“A lot happened. It wasn’t just one thing.” Juice had stolen from the club, killed a brother, attempted suicide, and become a rat. His parentage started it all, a deep shame for the genetics within him, a fear that the club would find out and cast him out or kill him. A shame for the colour of his skin. He looked over at his daughter who shared Fiona’s colouring on a lighter scale, a perfect blend of him and his wife. A wife he is absolutely terrified for. He tried to keep his emotions to himself, not to worry their daughter but the fact that he doesn’t know where Fiona is, or if she’s okay is eating him up inside.

 

Kerrianne took a deep breath and then slowly released it. “He asks me about my day, and it’s not in that automatic manner but it’s because he wants to know. If I’m having a bad day he’ll cheer me up, make me laugh. If I’m worried about something he reminds me that you and Ma are always there for me, and if I need him, he’d be there too.” She twirled her hair around her index finger and then released it. “He doesn’t talk about himself. Sometimes I’ll try to get something out of him but he just goofs off until I get exasperated with him.”

 

He really doesn’t want to hear about how his daughter and Juice became so chummy. “Why are you telling me this?”

 

“I’m getting somewhere with this, just-“ she sighed again. “Da, something is wrong with him. I can sense it. I can hear it in his voice over the phone and here, he just isn’t the same as he was a few years ago. You know what that something is, I want to know. I know that you don’t like the idea of me being friends with him.”

 

“Don’t like the idea,” he rolled his eyes. “I hate the idea.”

 

She stopped and waited until he stopped and turned back to her. “Why? I demand to know why.”

 

He pulled her over to the side so they wouldn’t stick out among the pedestrians. “This is not the time-“

 

“It’s never the time!” she hissed. “Stop coddling me. I’ll be twenty in a couple months, Da.”

 

“Twenty.” He shook his head. “Everyone thinks they know everything at twenty. Jesus. You’re just a wee babe.”

 

Like mother like daughter, she gave him the same dark look her mother did when angered, a look that held promises of pain and suffering. “A wee babe?” the words seethed from her lips. “Do you think I am some naïve child? I grew up under the care of Jimmy O’Phelan. I don’t see the world with innocent eyes, _Da_.” Her finger poked him in the chest but it didn’t hold a candle to the pain her words brought. “I’m not blind and I’m not stupid. I have lived through more shit in twenty years than most do in a lifetime. I can handle it.”

 

He caught her face in his hands before she could turn away from him. “I just want to protect you.”

 

She softened and the rage slipped away. “I know, Da. I just wished that you knew me well enough to trust me.”

 

“I do trust you.” It hurt him to think that his baby didn’t know that he trusted her. “I do.”

 

She sniffled a little. The emotional toll of the days hitting her hard. “Jimmy always ate rye bread,” she said suddenly. “It was something I thought of one morning soon after you had left Belfast. It bothered me because I realized then that we’d never had a chance to share breakfast and I didn’t know what kind of bread you preferred. It was stupid and I didn’t want to call you to ask because how awkward would that be?” she ranted, nearly tripping over the words as she tried to get them all out. “But I did call Juice and it was late there and I woke him and I skirted around the topic of how I was eating breakfast. We talked about smoothies and bacon and then I just, I asked what kind of bread you liked and he immediately said ‘whole wheat’ and I was so jealous because he knew and I didn’t and you’re my Da and I should know and I hate Jimmy for taking that away from me, my chance to really know my Da. And it just, it happens now and then, some random question about you and I talk it over with Juice or he will just tell me some story that happened with the two of you and I get to find out more about you.” She took a deep breath and tried to keep the tears at bay. “He gave me the chance to know you, not just what you want me to know. I get to hear about drunken nights of mischief or some inappropriate joke and I just get a better picture and it all just makes me love you more.”

 

She pulled away, turned around and tugged the beanie down a little more as she struggled to just breathe through the tightness in her chest. When she had herself back under control she turned back to face her father. “He loves you like a brother. He’s helped me through stupid little mini-crises, and makes me smile on a bad day, he remembers my birthday and we like the same kind of movies and music. We’re friends and he’s hurting this time and I don’t know what to do.”

 

“Don’t you think we have enough to worry about?” Chibs did. His eyes scanned the area once again. “Juice needs to learn to handle his shit.”

 

“Didn’t you ever need someone to lean on?”

 

“He could have!” Chibs roared suddenly. “He chose not to. He betrayed the club, Kerri.”

 

“Why?”

 

Realizing his own stubborn streak in her he knew they’d remain at a stalemate unless he said something. He took in a deep breath and got close enough to whisper so no one else would overhear their conversation. “Because he didn’t know his daddy is black. His paperwork says Hispanic- which is all that matters to the club but the dumb shit freaked because the cops were holding it over his head.”

 

She cocked her head to the side. “Juice is half-black? That’s why-“

 

“Not even close to done.” Giving her the information would allow her to understand not only his anger when it came to Juice, but the hurt he felt as well. The man had been a brother, as close as they come. The betrayal still stung. “The cops used it as leverage to get him to steal a brick.”

 

He didn’t have to specify what, his intelligent girl got the point just fine. “Wait, but why does his colour matter?”

 

“Matters to the club.”

 

“Ma’s black.”

 

“She’s an old lady, it isn’t the same. Times were different when the rules were made,” he spoke quickly, all too aware of how close they’d come before to being caught. “Can I just get this out so we can return to running, like we should be?”

 

“What would happen if the club found out?” she interrupted before he could even begin again.

 

He huffed out an impatient breath. “His paperwork is Hispanic, it doesn’t even-“

 

“Then what did he think would happen?” she hissed just as impatiently.

 

“Best case for that sort of thing; get stripped of his patches, any SOA related ink would need to be covered in a timely matter or we’d take care of it ourselves. Worst case, do I really need to tell you what the worst case would be?”

 

Her eyes widened marginally and then refocused. The stern press of her lips told him she understood just fine. She made a hand gesture for him to continue.

 

“So he stole the brick, got caught by a brother. Only one of them walked away.”

 

Reading between the lines was a skill she possessed. Her hand flew to her throat and her eyes widened. She managed to push the air back out of her lungs and take a few normal breaths. “Oh.” Her fingers tugged along the long chain as her father spoke truths.

 

It hurt to think about and somehow managed to be even worse to talk about. He pulled out a cigarette, fiddling with it but not lighting up. “Then under the weight of his guilt I found him under a tree.” Until he had to say it all out loud, he didn’t realize how much it still hurt. The terror, the anger, the grief of a man he called a brother, a friend. He’d taken Juice under his wing despite the fact that he’d technically been Jax’s prospect. Chibs had treated Juice much like he would if he’d had a son, with the added benefit of not actually being his father so drunken debauchery and general mayhem being shared with the other man wasn’t at all out of the question. “There was this broken branch with a chain wrapped around it. Juice’s neck black and blue.”

 

Tears fell from her eyes and she sucked in a breath. “Oh my God.” She pulled on her necklace until the cross her father gave her came out of her shirt. She held it tightly in her hand and shut her eyes. She knew the kind of life that would push someone to the brink.

 

“Can we get moving now?” Instead of waiting for an answer he put an arm over her shoulder and guided her onward.

 

::

 

“Leave him alone!” Fiona screamed and shook the fence as she watched in horror as Cain delivered another blow to the man’s ribs. Juice’s back arched away and then simply went limp. “Oh God, oh God,” she whispered.

 

Cain’s dark eyes turned on her. He slow, wicked smirk curved his lips.  “Hello, Fiona.”

 

A handsome devil. Standing well over six feet, the kind of muscle build that comes with frequent gym visit. The suit spoke of power and position, no one gave him a second glance unless it was to check him out. Dark blond hair remained closely clipped and only helped to accentuate his dark green eyes. Sensuous lips that could make even the devil seductive curved further as he approached the chain link that separated him. She took three quick steps back.

  
A rich laugh burst from him. “Oh my, my. Fiona, frightened? I never thought I would see the day.”

 

“What is going on, Cain?” she demanded. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Juice look over his shoulder, his eyes far too clear for a man who just passed out. _Big faker._ Relief washed over her and she knew she needed to keep Cain’s attention on her. “Why did the IRA come to Ashby’s? One of those men tried to take my daughter! Why!” She slammed her hands against the chain link fence that separated him.

 

“You really think I would answer that?” Cain asked as he tut-tutted. “I’m not stupid.”

 

No, she had to admit, the brute also had intelligence and it made him all the more dangerous. “Where is Maureen?” She could see movement in her peripheral vision but didn’t take her eyes off of Cain. She needed to remain focussed.

 

“Maureen, oh, Maureen,” Cain touched his finger to his chin. “How I love when she screams.”

 

Horror slithered its way into her body and burrowed in her mind. She knew Cain’s capabilities and it terrified her to think of Maureen at his mercy. In the peripheral of her vision there she saw the swing. The light in the big man’s eyes went out just before he dropped to the ground.

 

Juice released the pipe he’d found and put his hands on his knees. “You good, Fiona?”

 

“Yes. Can you get over here?” She’d feel so much better if he were on her side of the fence when Cain came to. As much as she would have loved to have just shot Cain, a gunfight in the middle of Belfast would only draw more attention to them, not just IRA but the police as well.

 

He nodded but she noticed the way he didn’t quite stand straight and when he walked to the fence his arm wrapped loosely against his ribs. He climbed, slowly and she could see the pain on his face. Instead of jumping from the top, he slowly climbed back down and went back to holding his midsection.

 

With great concern, she put her hand lightly on his shoulder. “Did he break anything?”

 

He shook his head. “I’ll be alright. Come on,” he ran the back of his hand over his lip that had been split open at some point during the fight. “We need to get moving.”

 

“What about Filip and Kerri?”

 

“The original plan sticks,” Juice insisted. He took a cautious glance over his shoulder to ensure Cain was still unconscious. “We’ll meet up with them at Ashby’s. Now come on, we don’t want them to worry about you.”

 

::

 

Ashby’s Provisions. A flood of memories came over Kerrianne like a wave. Her first real job. Two of her best friends. Jokes and stocking shelves. Bitching about customers and ordering supplies. All of her memories were overshadowed by Cherry’s violent death.

 

They’d entered through the back thanks to her father’s skills at breaking and entering. The backroom had evidence of the violence and she didn’t think that she would be able to take seeing the front of the shop.  “Computer is this way.” She tucked herself behind the desk and turned on the computer and monitor. A picture on the desk of Maureen and Trinity caused tears to spring to her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she focused on her father who continued smoking. She counted seven since they’d been separated from her mother and Juice- they had to stop for a fresh pack on the walk over. “Those things will kill you.”

 

He gave her a surprised glance. “Aye, they will. Don’t ever start.”

 

“Why don’t you just quit if you know they’re bad.”

 

“I can count a few other things that might kill me before cigarettes do.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you a ray of sunshine today?”

 

“Just realistic, my dear.”

 

“Guess I can’t say anything about your dangerous life choices when Ma is just as bad.”

 

“I didn’t have any affiliations before your Ma. Didn’t smoke before her either. Clearly, she is a bad influence. Don’t tell her I said that, or I’ll be on the couch.”

 

If he wanted her to laugh, as she suspected he did, it worked. Immediately she felt guilty for even smiling in the place where her friend was

456 murdered and Maureen had been taken. She sniffled and felt her father’s hand on her head. Instead of mussing her hair, as per usual, he ran his hand gently over it. The little action provided comfort, soothed the ache in her soul. “I love you, Da.” She just had to say it, just in case.

 

He kissed the top of her head. “I love you too, Kerri. What’s taking so long?”

 

“Mo’s computer is ancient,” Kerrianne replied. “She mostly used it for solitaire.”

 

The door burst open and she jumped. Her father had his gun out and pointed. Juice stood wide eyed, his arm went out to push back her mother. A surprised curse left Juice’s mouth. “Chibs!”

 

Chibs lowered his gun, Juice’s stance relaxed and Fiona walked in looking incredibly relieved. “Are you’re both alright?” Fiona asked worriedly.

 

“We’re both grand, Love,” Chibs insisted as he held out his arms which his wife immediately walked into the embrace of.

 

“Christ, Juice.” Kerrianne stood and abandoned her post at the computer. “Your face looks like you went a round with a two-by-four.”

 

“Wow, you sure know how to flatter a guy,” he replied sarcastically.

 

The large purple bruise ran from his temple to nearly the end of his tattoo. His tongue ran over the cut on his lip that insisted on continuing to bleed. Hand over his ribs, he walked slightly hunched over, protective of the ache. She wanted to ask what the heck happened but her father beat her to it. “Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell happened to you? You look like shit.”

 

Juice let out a sigh and glanced at Kerrianne. “Now I know where you get it from.”

 

Chibs once again looked his wife over but could find no evidence of harm other than the fact that the knee in her jeans was ripped. “Tell me what happened.”

  
Fiona took a deep breath, and when she spoke she had the clear voice of reason and order. “As you know, we split up when we ran. Juice and I ended up chased down an alleyway that was split by a chain-link fence. Juice boosted me over but my boot lace got caught.” Clear as day, they could all see that it pained her that such a silly thing had slipped them up. “I jumped down, hit my knee on the landing.”

 

“Does it-“

 

“I’m fine,” Fiona cut off her husband. “The man grabbed Juice.” She looked over at the young man and then shut her eyes. She wished she could have helped him in some way. Shooting Cain wouldn’t have helped them, it was bad enough to have the IRA on their tail, adding the police wasn’t an option. “That is where his injuries came from. He faked being unconscious until the guy turned his attention on me. I kept him distracted until Juice got up with a pipe and knocked him out. Juice climbed over and we came here.”

 

“Who was the guy?”

 

“What are-“

 

“Fi.” Chibs used her name sharply.

 

Fiona left the safety of his arms and crossed the room to her daughter and pulled her close. “It was Cain.” Kerrianne knew that her mother would feel her tremble but she didn’t give a damn. She hugged her mother back and held on for dear life.

 

“Uh, so just who is this ‘Cain’ guy?” Juice asked. “Other than a guy who has fists like a fucking sledgehammer.”

 

Fiona sighed and looked over at her husband, whom she knew would be wondering the same thing. “He’s IRA.” She took a steadying breath. “He was close with Jimmy and is obviously still loyal to the Kings.”

 

Chibs embraced his two girls and looked over at Juice who sat heavily on a large box. At five foot nine, with a lean muscular build Juice wouldn’t be pegged as an easy target. Plus, the kid was one scrappy bastard and consistently held his own in a fight. Cain had clearly worked Juice over. Chibs highly doubted that he had just stood there and took it as he has when Chibs himself had laid into the lad. When he added in Fiona’s cool voice of absolute control- which really just spoke of how hard she was trying to keep it together and Kerrianne’s trembling he got a much better picture of just how dangerous the man could be. He tightened his hold on his girls. “Bastard won’t hurt either of you while I’m still standing,” he promised.

 

“We have to keep ahead of him,” Kerrianne pulled away and returned to the computer. “He can’t find us, he can’t.” Her hands shook so badly that she couldn’t type in the password. Seeing her struggle, Juice shuffled over and pulled the leather wheeled chair she sat in. “Hey!”

 

“Lemme,” Juice said simply.

 

“The password is,” Kerrianne trailed off as she watched Juice quickly bypass the password section. “How did you do that?”

 

“Don’t have time to show you, sorry.” Juice accessed the camera software and cursed. “Someone deleted the footage. Give me a few minutes, I might be able to get it back.”


	32. Burning Fuses

The SAMBEL clubhouse had surely seen better days. The ruins of the clubhouse laid out before them. Two motorcycles were parked in the lot and two members sat on a bench making angry hand gestures at what was left of the building with their cigarettes.

Trinity released a sigh of relief at Seamus Ryan's wild head of greying curls. The other one, 'Scrum'-and what kind of a fucking name is Scrum anyway- sat beside him. "Seamus!" she called out as she approached.

"Mary, Jesus and Joseph!" Seamus jumped up and held out his arms. "You're alright! I heard some awful shit went down at the Provisions store." She walked into the warm and comforting embrace. Her head rested against his President patch. The weight of the events suddenly came crashing down on her chest, robbing her of breath. "I went by, bullets in the walls, they were taking some dead girl out of there but I was never able to find out who." He hugged her tighter and she felt safe on familiar ground.

"Cherry," she breathed and it caught on a sob. "It was Cherry."

Seamus sighed. "Shit. Where's Mo? I haven't been able to get a hold of her."

"She held them off while Kerrianne and I escaped." She needed to be strong and so she drew away. Her mother needed her strength, not her tears. "They took her, Seamus."

"Who?"

"IRA as far as we can tell."

"But is there any proof?" Seamus said softly. His condescending tone made her want to scream. No one wanted to pick a fight with the IRA. Better to turn a blind eye. Easier.

"Proof," Scrum scoffed. "She don't need proof just like we don't need proof. Look at the fucking clubhouse. We haven't any proof but we fucking know who blew it up." Trinity turned to her unlikely ally and for the first time really looked at him. He probably had a solid ten years on her, a neatly cut head of dark hair, grey-blue eyes that turned to assess her in turn. Standing, she had to look up at him but he only had a few inches on her although he had a solid muscular build that made her feel small.

"We can't just go up against the IRA," Seamus said to both of them. "Our ranks were decimated. We're still burying brothers. Besides, we don't even know if this is the IRA!"

"We know SAMCRO were ending their role with the IRA and we fucking know the IRA weren't happy about that," Scrum argued and gestured off to the ruins of the clubhouse. "They tend to blow shit up when they aren't happy!"

Seamus let out a sigh and pushed back a lose curl. "I've got more members in the hospital than I do out. I'm helping grieving Old Ladies put brothers to rest." He put his hands on Trinity's shoulders. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry? I'm sorry!" Trinity shouted and pushed his hands off of her shoulders. "Ma was McGee's Old Lady. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"It means plenty but I can't help you with this, Trinity," Seamus said, his voice soft and full of regret. "I ain't got nothing to fight the Kings with."

"Fine," Trinity turned on her heel only to have Seamus grab her arm. "Let go!"

"Don't do anything stupid," Seamus begged of her.

She pulled her arm away and stormed off. Honestly, she didn't have a plan. Sons were always big on loyalty and she had assumed that Seamus would help out the Old Lady of a member who had worn the President patch. Especially since he'd been a good friend to Maureen before and since McGee died.

The grey clouds chose that moment to start raining. "Oh come on!" Her eyes cut to the offending clouds. "Really? Like my day isn't bad enough? Rain? Now I've got clichés on top of everything else!"

"And everyone hates clichés."

She whirled around to find Scrum with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, a smirk on his lips. "What are you doing here?"

"The Pres _is_ a wee bit busy with the funerals." Scrum shrugged. "I made the very quick argument that if it was the IRA that did all this, you might need protection. He is fond of you, you know, didn't take much convincing."

"I have to find my mother." The thought blinded her. She fixated entirely on the goal, held it tightly afraid to let go, afraid to lose hope.

He nodded and she found understanding in his eyes. "Let me help you."

"Why? Seamus's has known me since I was a kid and he won't help." And it stung more than she cared to admit. She ignored the flare of disappointment.

Scrum ran his hand over his hair and blew out an angry breath. "My kid brother was prospectin'. He died in that explosion."

They stared at each other for a moment before Trinity averted her gaze. "I'm sorry."

"I never got the point of condolences," he admitted. "Doesn't do either party any good. It's just some social protocol. Doesn't change shit." He stared at her for a moment. "Come on. Let's get out of the rain. We can talk about this some place warm."

::

"Found it," Juice announced. Fiona and Chibs came around the desk to look over his shoulder. He'd rewound it to the beginning, when Maureen just entered the shop and talked with the girls.

Kerrianne's heart leapt into her throat. Unable to stand seeing or even hearing the footage she scooted off the box and walked away with her hands over her ears. "I can't watch this."

Chibs's eyes followed after his daughter. He hated that his baby ended up caught up in the middle of it all. A mistake of birth, no fault of her own and yet she lived in fear. He'd do whatever it took to make her safe but knew realistically that it this desire would go unfulfilled. Between the surnames of Larkin and Telford their daughter ended up burdened and trapped in the middle. Their lives held no promises. For now, he had to focus on the goal- find Trinity and Maureen so he could get his girls on that plane and the fuck out of Ireland. He leaned over Juice's shoulder, Fiona flanking the young man as the three of them watched the scene unfold.

It only took a minute. Only a minute for the entire thing to play out with their daughter in the crosshairs. Even knowing that she came out unharmed, it left both parents feeling nauseous. Running and screaming and gunfire gave them all a spike of adrenaline. Another shot and Cherry's form arched as it fell to the ground, lifeless. Fiona's hand flew to her mouth to smother a gasp. So close to Kerrianne, it could have been Kerrianne! One of the men grabbed onto their daughter, got a good hold of her over-shirt and purse strap which she promptly abandoned.

"Smart girl," Fiona whispered dragged into the moment. It hurt her heart to see her daughter's face so full of fear, of grief, of panic.

Juice cursed as he watched one of the men grab a fist full of Kerrianne's hair and yank her back a step. The little warrior sent a mule kick to the man's knee and looked fierce as she slammed her elbow back into the man's face. She showcased an incredible will to live. When she disappeared off screen, Juice let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His eyes shifted over to where Kerrianne sat with her back to them all, her hands still over her ears.

"I'll talk to her," Chibs offered quietly, his eyes on his wife. His hand squeezed Juice's shoulder. "Go through the video again. Try to get a good angle of their faces. Fi, you see you can't ID any of them."

Fiona nodded and watched her husband approach their daughter. Her heart clenched as he sat down beside her and she immediately rested her head against his shoulder. Her strong baby hurt badly if she were so quick to lean on someone, even her father. The sooner they got this all sorted, the sooner they could get Kerrianne to safety. "Alright, let's run through it again."

::

Maureen Ashby sat on a cot that sported stains she didn't want to think about. The cot sat in an empty room with one bare bulb for lighting and no windows. They'd dumped her here after they'd come into her store, other than a couple of wrapped snacks being thrown in she'd been left completely alone. She didn't doubt that would change. She eyed the snacks but had no stomach to eat. Her daughter was out there, somewhere. God, is Trinity even still alive? Her hands clasped for prayer she bent forward and poured her soul out for her daughter.

Trinity had completely changed her life. When she realized she was pregnant she had been terrified and that JT was the father, even more so. When her mother found out she wanted her to give the child up for Catholic adoption. But how could she? How could she when she felt the stirrings of her child inside of her? How could she when she already felt so much love for what grew within? No. She wouldn't do it. It hadn't been easy but it had been worth it. Her daughter had grown up so beautiful, so witty, so smart and strong. She made the right choice. She'd give the sun and the moon to her daughter, but the one thing she never quite could was her father. JT had another life, in another country- a home, a brotherhood. A wife and two sons. Oh, it burned then to find out, to be the other woman but she couldn't let go. She loved him regardless. Stupid, no doubt about it, but love none the less.

It hadn't been easy to raise the little girl on her own. John Teller's daughter. She'd loved it when he was around, JT had been so good with their wee lass. And when he was gone, she made it work. And then… he was _gone_. When Trinity got old enough to start wondering who her Da was she lied. JT being the father had been a secret after all. Easier all around, she figured. Easier to tell Trinity that her father had died in Lebanon when she was a baby. A soldier, a hero, something to look up to, to honour and respect. A good man, a good memory.

For a long while it had been just the two of them, eventually though McGee had come into their lives. Things got easier then, financially at least and she had to admit that it had been nice to have another adult to talk to. Emotionally though, she worried even more. And then he too was _gone_ and once again Trinity was all she had. She had to believe that her daughter had escaped.

Footsteps in the hall were slow, calm and absolutely maddening. It felt as though time had slowed, each and every step amped up her fear. Refusing to be small and weak, she stood with her hands balled into fists. The lock turned over and sweat collected at the back of her neck.

A man walked in with food and water, she knew him but the bruise on his face distracted her from the whole. He looked directly at her and his face clicked with the name. "Cain?"

"Maureen. How are you?" He asked kindly before kicking the door shut, she heard another man outside lock it once again.

"I've been in here with literally a cot and a pot to piss in," she snarled. "Not well."

He grimaced and walked closer, she side stepped him and he set the tray of food down on the cot. Thick slices of bacon, scrambled eggs and a couple slices of buttered toast, the scent alone had her salivating. She forced herself to ignore the food.

"I'm sorry about that," he told her. "It's been a while, Maureen."

She hadn't seen him at all since Jimmy died, before then only a handful of times in passing when she went to visit with Fiona. Before then, high school. They'd been friends and for a brief wild time, more than friends. "It has," she replied cautiously.

"I just heard that you were here." His lips set in a hard line. "Unbelievable that they are keeping you here."

"Do you know what they want with me?" her eyes averted to the bacon. "No one has even come in to talk to me since I got here."

"Go ahead and eat. You must be hungry." He looked around the small room before his gaze returned to Maureen who sat on the bed and picked up a slice of toast. "They want to know where your friends are. They need to talk to Chibs."

"Bullshit," she said with a mouthful of toast. She took a sip of the water, fighting the urge to guzzle it. "They wouldn't have tried to shoot his daughter if they wanted to just talk to him."

"I'm sure if they wanted Kerrianne dead, she would be. They don't," he insisted. "They wouldn't do that to Fiona out of respect."

Maureen turned her suspicious eyes on Cain. She continued eating quickly, trying to get as much sustenance as possible. After all, who knew when they'd think about her again? "They killed one of my employees."

"Regrettable, I'm sure."

Regrettable. Fucking prick. "Hmm." She worked her way through the eggs before she allowed herself another sip of the water. "What do they want to talk to Chibs about? Surely they could get his number." They both remained silent while she ate the first piece of bacon and another slice of toast. She knew the games that were played on this side of the ocean. Once again, she turned her eyes to him and stared. "I hear O'Shay is royally pissed, hit right in the manhood. SAMCRO fucked with the pipeline. O'Shay lost control of the situation, Kings are pissed and want SAMCRO to feel the pain." His eyes widened just marginally before a slight smirk created a crease in his cheek. Yeah, that's what she fucking thought. "You go after Filip and Fiona's kid and they will have Belfast drowning in blood."

He chuckled. "You think highly of them."

Maureen just smirked as she finished off the food and felt very content all things considered. She could use some Whiskey but beggars can't be choosers. She gulped down the last of the refreshing water. "You try to hurt the club through family, try to hurt it through a loyal brother, a VP. I get it."

"Tell me where they are and I can get your daughter out of here," Cain told her.

Fear had her heart tripping over itself. "Excuse me?"

"Trinity, your daughter," Cain replied as if she were dense. "She's in a room like this down the hall."

Her breath shuddered and her hand trembled. "No."

"Kerrianne doesn't seem to have the kind of honour you link to her parents. She took off running when one of our guys grabbed Trinity." He sighed and crouched down before her. "Look, this isn't your problem. Really, this doesn't have to involve you or Trinity. We just need to know where Chibs is- before he takes his family and leaves here."

She'd asked Fiona to safeguard her daughter. She wouldn't leave the country without her. Right? "Prove it," she growled.

"I can't," he whispered. "I'm not even supposed to be here. You're not supposed to have that," he pointed to the food. "They wanted you in isolation, weak and tired so when they came down to start interrogating you, you'd give in easy."

"I don't give in easy."

"Aye," he smiled. "I know, I remember." He squeezed her knee. "Come on, Mo. We go way back. I'm risking my own neck here. Let me help you and your daughter. Once they have the information they don't need you, I can get you two home. Safe and sound. Just tell me where they are."

The thought of her daughter in such a room left her feeling ill, made her feel like a failure. Somehow she should have been able to prevent it. He could be lying, she couldn't tell one way or the other. Could she make such a gamble with her daughter's life at stake? "Cain, I really don't know where they are."

"But you know where they could be, give me a starting point. For Trinity, Mo, help me help Trinity."

Her fingernails scraped along her skull, fingers through her hair. "SAMBEL?"

"It was blown up. There are a few members. Possible," Cain admitted thoughtfully. "Where else?"

She felt the tears well in her eyes but blinked them away. "Cain, please, I don't know where they are."

"Think, Mo. For Trinity."

"Please, please, I don't know where else they'd go. Filip cut ties to Ireland years ago." A sudden thought had her leaning forward eagerly. "A brother, he has a brother."

"Where?"

"I don't know, they didn't get along," she replied searching her brain for details. For Trinity, she reminded herself. "I only know because I met Filip's nephew Padraic a few times."

"Would he go to the nephew then?"

"Paddy died," she whispered.

Cain huffed out an annoyed breath. "This doesn't help."

"Cain, please, I don't know anything else."

"And Fiona would go to you," Cain muttered as he stood back up. "Shit."

"I don't know anything else," Maureen begged. Not for herself, she'd never abandon her pride for herself, but for her daughter she could, she had to. "Please don't hurt Trinity."

He turned back to her hand ran his hand over her hair. "I have to go." With that, he picked up the tray and left. The silence and isolation shook Maureen to the core and the tears finally fell.

::

Fiona had been able to identify two of the men as senior level IRA. They now were positive about who they were dealing with and who took Maureen. It didn't help a whole hell of a lot. What the hell were they to do about it? She still had a few contacts within the IRA but who knew if they could be trusted?

For now, they focused on finding Trinity before the young woman did something really stupid. Fiona reluctantly admired Trinity's tenacity and didn't really blame the girl for running off. After all, she'd do the same thing and she would hate to be a hypocrite. She let out a sigh and slipped her hand into her husband's. They were walking the last couple of blocks to SAMBEL. Behind her, she could hear Kerrianne and Juice talking.

"Do you think we'll find her?" Kerrianne asked, her voice soft and a little sad.

"Yeah, we will," Juice replied.

"How can you be sure?"

"Because we aren't leaving until we do."

A moment of silence lapsed. "Are you eager to get home?"

"I guess. I miss the sun, the heat," Juice responded.

"I'm kind of sad to leave."

"Getting a little addicted to danger? OW!"

"Serves your right. And no, I'm not. It's just, this is my home. Has been for nearly twenty years. All of my life."

"I get it. I felt the same when I left home."

"Yeah? How old were you?"

"Fifteen."

"Fifteen? And you just left? Why?"

Fiona looked over her shoulder to find Kerrianne looking curious and involved in the conversation. It warmed her heart after how down her daughter had looked earlier. Juice, however, looked uncomfortable as he struggled for words. She returned her gaze forward but kept her ears on the younger ones.

"I loved Queens. New York. Big city. You could be anybody or nobody, your choice. New York doesn't give a fuck if you sink or swim, you got to earn that shit there. I knew Queens like the back of my hand. They were my stomping grounds, you know."

"Yeah, I get it, so why did you leave?"

He took a deep breath. "My mother got married when I was ten. The guy was a douche. I fucking hate him."

"Why?"

"Because," Juice replied harshly and had both Fiona and Chibs turning around curiously as well as a few other pedestrians shooting him curious looks. He tucked his head down and continued walking, remaining silent for a moment. "I just do, okay? Point is, mom married him and then, when I was fifteen, she died in a hit and run. Cops said from the lack of skid marks whoever did it didn't even slow down." He huffed out a breath. "After that, there was some legal guardianship shit. Whatever, point was, I was supposed to live with him. As much as I loved New York I couldn't stay there. Not with him. So I left."

"You went cross country at fifteen? How? Like, what money? Mode of transportation? You couldn't have had a bike then, you couldn't have even had your license."

"Hitchhiked for a while, worked odd jobs for people who didn't ask questions. There were a couple of questionable choices back then to get by. Deliveries for the 'don't ask questions, don't look in the bag' kind of people. I swear, I think I once delivered black-market organs."

"Get out!"

"I'm pretty sure, I mean, I can't think of any other reason why they'd give me an ice chest. It was sketch as fuck but they paid good money. I didn't have a plan, lived like that for years until I bumped into Jax and the rest, they say, is history."

Kerrianne became silent for a long moment. "Da told me everything." Chibs looked over his shoulder once again. Kerrianne looked stoic at this point. Juice appeared resigned. "Guess leaving New York didn't give you a better life." There was an edge of rage in her voice that hadn't been there before. She didn't really think that picking up and leaving Ireland would make her any safer, any happier. Didn't look like leaving home really helped Juice either.

"Oddly, it did," Juice argued as he continued walking. "But as it turns out, I can fuck things up regardless of where I am. Come on, what's left of SAMBEL is around the corner."

"I have to pick up and leave," Kerrianne raged, grabbing his arm and stopping him in his tracks. "I have to leave my home, my life, everything I have ever known and now I'm finding out all this shit." It hurt. Oh, God it hurt. Her mind ran over everything her father had told her and it tore her up inside. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

Juice huffed out a breath and wished for a cigarette. "You are the queen of bad timing."

"There is never a good fucking time!" She shouted on the verge of tears. "In my life there has never been a good time to talk about anything and there is always something going on that is dangerous and deadly. What? You want me to book a fucking appointment?"

"Kerri," Fiona warned. "The street is not the place."

"Yeah. Just like our lunches out were never the time to talk about Jimmy," she shot back, turning her anger on her mother. "Just like the living room isn't the place to talk about Cain, right?" She broke away from the group and walked at a swift pace toward SAMBEL. "Just keep your mouth shut, Kerrianne," she muttered bitterly. "Never a time to talk."

"Now hold on just one minute!" Fiona reached out and grabbed her daughter's arm who immediately wrenched it away. "Kerri!" She watched the fire in her daughter's eyes become cold. "Please," her hands went up in a placating fashion. "We can talk about this but not here and not now."

"Can we go?"

Chibs watched on in horror. It always burned him when Kerrianne mentioned Jimmy. He'd had such a large effect on her life, he'd been there, Chibs hadn't and even with the bastard dead and buried he still haunted Chibs through his wife and daughter. His baby hurt, raged with it in bursts. In the back of Ashby's, when she'd rested her head on his shoulder it was as though she simply couldn't support it all anymore. Twenty years. A long time to live with the likes of Jimmy O, to have the IRA breathing down upon her family, a lot of worry, things he didn't even understand, things he, and he suspected like Fiona, had never had the chance to talk to her about. Her fuse kept burning to the end of the wick causing a blow out of emotion. He suspected a complete burnout wouldn't be far behind. She had done just grand at keeping it all together but everyone has a breaking point and he feared that his daughter neared hers.

"Let's get to SAMBEL, I bet Seamus will be around," Fiona nodded but when she tried to touch Kerrianne's arm, the young woman turned on her heel and lead the way with long, angry strides.


	33. Pessimism

"Sorry, you missed her by a couple of hours," Seamus, the SAMBEL president told them. The group stood in a loose circle by the wreckage of the burnt down clubhouse. The rain came down lightly and everyone who had a hood pulled it up over their heads.

Kerrianne cursed under her breath. So close and yet so far away. She and Trinity had been best friends for as long as she could remember. The inability to find her amidst the grave danger they were all in made her feel sick.

"And you just let her go off on her own!" Fiona fumed. Motherly instinct had kicked into high gear and she thought of Trinity as one of her own after so many years of friendship with Maureen.

"She's an Ashby," Seamus replied. "Stubborn lot. I couldn't help the girl. I wanted to but there isn't a damn thing I can do right now. Got more dead to bury than I do live members. Scrum volunteered to watch out for her, went with her. I don't like that much but he wasn't being a lick of good around here."

"Scrum?" Chibs repeated.

"Yeah. He was around when you SAMCRO boys were here last."

"Don't remember him," Chibs muttered.

"Figure you had plenty on your mind then," Seamus replied calmly. "Wish you were back here under better circumstances, seems these days you only come to visit when the shit hits the fan." Chibs shrugged.

"Is he a good man, this Scrum?" Fiona asked wearily. One of the SAMBEL boys with little lady Trinity made her very worried. Her Kerrianne had a good strong backbone, watchful eyes and a quick mind; Trinity on the other hand had an open heart, a quick smile and a trusting nature. Not to say those features were a bad thing, nor was that to say Trinity didn't know to be careful or use her brain, but the girl had a tough few days and mistakes happened.

"You don't gotta worry about him, Fi," Seamus insisted. "He's a damn fine man. He's got two sisters, both younger an' he pretty much raised them. He's one tough son of a bitch but he's got a soft spot for women in trouble."

Fiona huffed out a breath. "That doesn't put me at ease."

"Relax, he'll watch over her. He won't try nothing. My biggest worry is that his temper might overrule his head. His kid brother was prospecting, he died in the explosion. Scrum raised that wiseass too, he isn't taking the lad's passing so well."

"You think he might try something with the IRA?" Chibs asked.

"Wouldn't put it past him."

"Call him," Fiona demanded.

Seamus sighed and pulled out his phone to make the call. He hit the speaker button when he called and on the third ring, Scrum answered. "Did you catch up with Trini?"

_"Yeah."_

"Where are you two?"

_"The Kings have this coming."_

"Jesus! Whatever you're thinking about doing, don't. This isn't how shit works."

_"Yeah, well what we've been doing obviously doesn't work either."_

"You wear that patch, everything goes to the table," Seamus seethed.

 _"You wanna play that game with me, Pres? Just because you're in their pocket, doesn't mean I have to be."_ Click. Disconnected.

Chibs's eyes narrowed on Seamus. "You in their pocket?"

Seamus cursed. "No. Of course not. Not like McGee and O'Neil. This is Ireland, this is a charter in Belfast. I have to work with the IRA, with the kings. Things here ain't like they are in California, Filip."

"Write down that number," Chibs gestured to the phone. "I want to be able to call him later."

"Yeah, sure."

"Now what?" Fiona whispered to her husband.

Good fucking question.

::

Half asleep, Rane Quinn reached to the other side of the bed only to find cool sheets. He laid still for a moment before he rolled over and switched on the light. The little room in the back of the SAMTAC clubhouse had a double bed, a small dresser, a desk and a chair. His woman sat in that chair, her back against the wall and her knees up to her chest. A cigarette dangled from her fingers, a hand covered her eyes. "Tink?" she didn't look up and it worried him. "Allison?" She took a deep breath and lowered her hand, her eyes were full of tears. He whispered a curse before he got to his feet and walked across the room. "It's going to be okay."

"That's a terrible thing to say," she told him, her voice full of pain. "Mac will be reduced to ashes before he even hit his thirtieth birthday. Do you know how much that scares me, Rane? I don't know how Indiana is dealing with it. I don't know what I would do if it were you."

He plucked the forgotten cigarette from her fingers and stubbed it out in the ashtray. "You don't got to worry about that," he insisted picking the tiny figure up from the chair, her arms immediately wrapping around his neck. "I'm too fucking stubborn."

"Doesn't work that way," she replied. "I used to be a paramedic. I got to be there for the most terrifying, horrible minutes of someone's life. No one intends for these things to happen, you don't think any of them want to keep on living? Your body takes enough trauma, you die. How determined you are has nothing to do with it."

He laid her back down on the bed before curling up next to her. Hands wandered over her tiny form in a need to reassure. "This life isn't pretty, I know that-"

"You understand the business, the brotherhood but you don't know what it's like to be a woman in this life. I watch you walk out the door and I'm never sure you're coming back. We're just told to stay put, we ignore the day to day danger only to have it come and hit us when we aren't paying attention. We're pawns at best."

"You're my queen," he attempted levity but her hard glare shut him up quick.

"I pray to a God I don't even believe in," she admitted softly. "I can't lose you. And don't try and tell me I won't. You're in for life, aren't you? It's me that will have to pick up the pieces."

Her perspective terrified them both. Quinn always pictured himself as a Son, he talked about retirement sometimes with her but obviously she didn't take it seriously. And maybe neither had he. Arms tightened around her and he pulled her close. He didn't want to leave her widowed and he had to admit the possibility. He didn't live a clean or simple life. Nomad at heart, he didn't know how much he would be willing to give up, even for her. A choked sob had the power to cut straight to his heart.

"I love you," he whispered.

He felt her head nod against his chest before she rolled over, her back to him. "I know," she said and he heard the tears in her voice. "It's just you love the club more and one day it's going to kill you."

::

The three beers didn't faze him, so he switched to whiskey. Besides, whiskey is the kind of drink a man uses to drown his sorrows. Spending years as a member of the Sons of Anarchy, Dax knew violence and death but being well acquainted with them never did take the edge off of losing a brother. The news that Quinn brought with him hit even harder. The only prospect that Dax had ever sponsored had taken three rounds to the chest in defense of another brother.

He couldn't be prouder.

But even pride doesn't take the edge off of grief. And so, he ignored his computer and the work he should be doing and drown the sorrows in alcohol.

::

Chibs had tried the number four times before Scrum finally answered. _"What?"_

"Scrum, lemme talk to Trinity."

_"Who's this?"_

"Tell her it's Filip."

He could hear quiet murmurs before Trinity's small 'hello' came over the line.

"Where are you?"

 _"I'm sorry,"_ she said softly. _"I can't leave without my Ma."_

"Let me handle that, I promise I won't leave without her."

Silence filled the line and Fiona made a 'give me' motion for the phone. He handed it over, if anyone could get through to the young woman it would be his wife. "Trinity? It's Fiona. Please tell me where you are, lass. I need to see you, see that you're alright."

_"I'm fine."_

"Humour me."

_"No. You'll make me leave."_

"Trinity. You can't go up against the IRA yourself. Let Filip and I work something out. I won't leave without Maureen. I promise."

_"Is Kerri there?"_

"Yes, Kerrianne is here." Fiona motioned her daughter closer and pressed the speaker button.

_"Can I talk to her?"_

"I'm here," Kerrianne said. "I'm here, Trini, please tell us where you are!"

 _"I'm sorry for sneaking off,"_ Trinity told her. _"But if it was your Ma or Da, you'd have done the same."_

"It's fine, I get it, just tell me where you are!"

_"You're my best friend, you know that, right?"_

"Trin-"

_"Love you."_

The moment of silence between the disconnecting click and the dial tone was heavy with disbelief. Kerrianne snatched the phone from her mother's hand and hit redial. "Pick up, pick up," she chanted. She hung up and tried again. And again. And again. She cursed vehemently when she realized that neither Trinity nor Scrum had any intention of picking up again.

Fiona put her hand on her daughter's shoulder. "It's going to be okay, we'll figure it out."

"Ma, I've had enough false promises," Kerrianne whispered. "Let's just say it how it is. We have no idea where she is and she's going to get herself killed."

"No. We're going to find her," Fiona snapped back. "And she's going to be just fine."

"Yeah. Okay," Kerrianne replied. She didn't believe it but couldn't find the energy to argue.

::

The throbbing in her head woke her, or it might have been the sunlight shining directly upon her face. She reached out blindly for the nearest pillow only to realize that she laid near the foot of the bed. Surrounded by the unfamiliar, fear slithered icy cold down her spine. The dress she still wore made her feel slightly better. Yesterday's events hit her like a freight train and she choked down a sob. The night a blur of alcohol and self-loathing. She cursed under her breath.

"Bet you feel like shit."

The familiar voice felt like both salvation and condemnation. He always had the power to confuse her. She turned her head toward Happy who sat in a chair with his feet propped up on the bed. She vaguely remembered being with him in a parking lot. Embarrassment lost only to the pain in her head. "Is that my clutch?" she pointed to the handbag on the table.

"Who the fuck else's would it be?"

She forced a smile. "I bet you could rock it."

"Fuck off," he replied.

"The pain killers in it. Gimme."

As if he would go through a woman's bag. He picked it up and tossed it to her. "Chicken shit," she muttered under her breath. She found the pain killers and looked around for a drink. A bottle of water hit the bed a second later.

"It's from last night, likely warm," he warned.

"Thanks." She sat up and twisted off the cap. She remembered throwing up in the bathroom with Happy at her side. A grimace passed over her face before she quickly swallowed two pills and took another sip of the water. "How did you find me?"

"Emily has you pegged."

Confused, she tilted her head. "GPS?"

"No, you're predictable," he growled. "You pull this shit before?"

The fiasco in the alleyway returned full force. "I had a rough patch in University," she admitted as she played with her hemline. "Em walked me home before I could commit to anything remarkably stupid." She took another sip of water. "I'm sorry for running off last night, Hap. I didn't intend on it. I was just going through Mac's stuff and found this picture and I fucking lost it."

"What kind of picture?"

"Me," she whispered. "I remember him taking it back when I was in University. It's just a picture of me. He said something smartass and I turned to him and he took the picture. I didn't even know he had the camera with him. Fucking thing is framed. The man who didn't see the sense in matching socks and he framed a picture. Of me." She laid down slowly and stared at the ceiling. "Guilt is a malicious bitch." She took a deep breath. "I'm not sure if I remember everything from last night but I do remember getting into some pretty heavy stuff. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He hadn't liked hearing it but figured she needed to say it. And hell, maybe he needed to be the one to hear it. Messing with her all those years ago and walking away had done far more damage than he would have thought. He had always saw what he did as the right thing, walking away from a woman far too young for him, the daughter of a friend but maybe those were just convenient excuses. He'd needed an out and he'd taken it, her feelings hadn't been taken into consideration. "You got your shit sorted now?"

She ran her hands through her hair. "I doubt it." She turned her head to him. "In case last night wasn't a strong enough indication, I'm pretty fucked up."

He huffed out a breath. "Do I have to worry about you running off again?"

"No. I think that backfired enough last night." Her hands clenched in her hair. Somehow, it was both the best thing and the worst thing that he'd been the one to find her. "I'm going to find out who is stealing from Diosa, should keep me occupied. I should go in, get a few hours of work done."

He looked her over, for a total fucking disaster she still managed to be the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid eyes on. "Might want to get cleaned up first. Got that eye gunk up to your temples."

She groaned and turned away from him. "Fuck."

::

Emily fried up a few eggs and the pound of bacon she found in the fridge. "Hey Tig!" she shouted out into the bar. "You want breakfast?" She only had to wait a few seconds to hear the footsteps come down the hall and into the small kitchen space.

"You made bacon?"

"Yep."

"And that's coffee."

"Last time I checked."

"You're an angel."

"I gave you a rough time of it last night," she admitted. She turned away from the stove and gave him a slightly embarrassed smile. "My worry got the best of me."

He gave her a smile in return. "If you're going to make breakfast in the morning you can worry your nights away, Darlin'."

"Have you talked to Happy since last night?" she asked as she stacked his plate with the majority of the eggs and bacon.

"Na, but he said they'd be driving here in the morning," he replied while pouring himself a mug of coffee.

Emily frowned, she'd been hoping for some kind of news. She'd tried calling Indiana earlier in the morning but figured that she either had her phone off or on silence, regardless the result remained the same. Her phone went off and she pulled it from her pocket to read the text message. "Angus says they have a few guys from SAMTAC who will be coming back with them."

"Good," Tig replied as he sat down to eat.

Emily stared at the phone a moment longer. Last time that SAMCRO went after Kane, Mac had ended up dead. Even if Angus and Quinn would be returning with more bodies there were no guarantees. She shoved her phone back into her pocket. Grabbing her plate, she opened drawers until she found the utensils and reached out for a fork. The diamond on her finger glinted in the light and her heart quickened. Angus will be fine, she told herself.

The front door to the bar opened and Tig poked his head out of the kitchen. "V-Lin," he said, mostly for Emily's sake.

"You got the keys for the van? Jax wants me an' Phil to take the body off to Skeeter- oh," V-Lin trailed off when he spotted Emily. The young woman had become ashen and excused herself from the room. V-Lin waited until she walked into one of the rooms and shut the door behind herself. "Keys?"

Tig shoved his hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out the van keys. "Get the ashes boxed up."

"Yeah, I know," V-Lin replied as he headed out.

Tig looked at the big breakfast before he trudged down the hall and knocked. "He's gone."

"Oh. Okay. I'll be out in a minute."

"Alright." Not knowing what to do with the relatively unknown woman, he left the hallway and returned to his breakfast. No point in it going to waste.


	34. Imbalance

 

"You can't just be bringing bodies in here!" Skeeter protested, horror etched onto his features.

Phil found humour in the fact that the gravedigger looked so horrified by a dead body. "The club needs this favour," he told him. "He was one of ours." For a short time, at least. While he knew that Mac had been a Nomad for years, the fact that he just got patched Redwood only to be gunned down put things in perspective.

Skeeter ran his hand over what little hair he had. "You guys know that I do have bosses, right? This could cost me my job."

"Hasn't stopped you before," V-Lin replied while looking at some odd looking fluid in a jar.

"I've always been immediately compensated before," Skeeter replied. "Tends to help the nerves."

"Jax said you could have a date night with one of the girls at Diosa," Phil replied.

"Platinum grade pussy," V-Lin enticed. While Skeeter made a show of weighing his options, he knew damn well that the gravedigger would take the offer.

"Well, okay," Skeeter said. "Just this once."

"Put him in a nice box," Phil told him before the two SOA members walked out to let Skeeter get to work.

"Yet again, it has been proven that there is nothing that a man won't do for pussy," V-Lin said with a grin.

::

Quinn sat in the rather spacious kitchen in the SAMTAC clubhouse. He'd slipped out of bed early but left Tink sleeping. He needed the quiet, needed to grieve, and to think about the future. He'd owned Sanctuary before either Tink or Indiana had come into his life but once they were there he kept the business clean. In the event of his death they would have a marginally successful business to keep them afloat. It had paid the mortgage on the bungalow he and Tink owned and had put Indiana through school and would have paid for residency if she hadn't been so damn stubborn. If he passed, they could either continue running the bar/motel or sell it for a lump sum of money. The point being that they would be financially taken care of. To date, that had been his biggest worry.

Tink had given him plenty to think about though. She made it clear that what happened financially didn't even register to her. She worried about being alone, about the heartbreak and grief of losing your significant other. The thought of reversing those roles tied his shoulders in knots. He couldn't imagine life without his Old Lady anymore. She'd become so intertwined in his life that her absence would be like a bullet to his heart.

Mac's death brought perspective. And a healthy dose of fear.

He didn't think anyone was ever ready for death but he had no desire to go out yet. He still had so much left to live for. His Old Lady, his daughters, his brothers, the open road, and maybe the order his thoughts came in was important. If he died, sure, his brothers would grieve but it would be nothing compared to what Tink and Indiana would feel. His brothers would move on. His wife and daughter would forever remember what came last. Blood and violence, because for him, in this life, there would be no other exit.

And who was he to lay that on them?

And yet, how could he walk away from the only life he'd ever known?

The clatter broke him from his thoughts. His eyes tracked Dax as the other man moved about the kitchen, poured a coffee and added a spoonful of sugar. They'd been brothers a long time, Dax had once been the Nomad's intelligence officer, and never once could Quinn recall seeing the man so down. "You alright, brother?"

The man grunted in response before he joined him at the table with his coffee. The two sat in a companionable silence for a few minutes before Dax broke it. "How's Indie taking it?"

Quinn shook his head like it might be able to rid him of the sudden image of his daughter hunched over the corpse of her lover. "Not well. She's still in Charming. Emily's there." It provided comfort to him, that his daughter's best friend stayed with Indiana. If his little girl would talk to anyone during her time of grief, it would be Emily.

"No funeral. Doesn't seem right." Dax shook his head. "He was a good brother."

"The circumstances-"

"I understand why we aren't having a funeral," Dax cut him off with uncharacteristic irritability. "He just deserved more."

Quinn agreed wholeheartedly but knew that what one deserves isn't often what they get.

Tink came in, completely comfortable in the small shorts and little black top. She maintained an athletic body that would put women half her age to shame. The vine tattoos on her legs looked sinfully sexy as she walked over to where the men sat. First she put her hands on Dax's shoulders. "How are you holding up?"

He patted her hand gently. "I'll be alright."

She kissed the top of his head. "I'm only a call away."

"Tell me again, sweet angel, how you ended up with that brute?" Dax replied with a teasing grin.

"He threw me over his shoulders and dragged me off to his cave," Tink quipped.

"Watch it," Quinn grumbled into his coffee. "I'll do it again."

Mischievous blue eyes turned on him. "Do you promise?"

He responded by grabbing her by the hips and pulling her onto his lap. "Once I'm done my coffee."

Tink snuggled in and curled her legs up. "When do we leave?"

Quinn checked his watch. "Should be heading out in an hour or so."

"I should shower then," Tink decided. She turned her attention to Dax. "From what I hear, you're not coming with us."

"'Fraid not. Pres thinks it would be _'unwise'_ given my _'temperament.'_ " He grunted. "What a load of horse shit."

"I for one am glad that you're being kept out of this shit-storm," Tink said. She stood and patted his shoulder. "One less person for me to worry over." She kissed his cheek. "In case I don't see you before we go."

"Take care of yourself, Tink."

"You too, Dax."

::

"It's fucking creepy," V-Lin decided. He sat in the passenger seat of the van while Phil drove them back to Teller-Morrow.

"What?" Phil asked while keeping his eyes on the road.

"This box of ashes," V-Lin elaborated tapping the top of the carved wood box. All and all, it was a nice box, some fancy wood Skeeter had a name for. All V-Lin knew was that the box was a deep reddish brown and intricately carved. Phil had chosen it. V-Lin personally thought the entire business was bad mojo. "This is it, an entire human being condensed to a little box."

"What did you think was going to happen?" Phil inquired while he hit the blinker. "No need for a full sized coffin for ashes."

"Well, no, I know that," V-Lin snapped. He held the box a little tighter as they went around the corner, a little afraid of the thing opening. "It's just that you live and then die and then this is it."

"Or you could get buried."

"Fuck that," V-Lin replied. "Instead of being ashes then you got fucking worms and shit-"

"But you're dead," Phil argued. "What does it matter?"

V-Lin shrugged. "Just fucking creepy is all."

::

"Are you sure about this?" Trinity asked. She'd changed into an all-black ensemble and pulled the hood of her sweater up over her ponytail.

"The IRA needs to pay," Scrum replied. Their dress remarkably the same but his hoodie hid his kutte and his jeans were just a much more relaxed fit. "If you want them to know you're serious about getting your ma back, you have to show them that you're serious. Just trust me."

She took a deep breath and nodded. What choice did she really have? Scrum was the only one who didn't try to tuck her in the corner. "Alright. Let's do it."

"Okay. That Pub there," Scrum pointed. "Roarke's, you see it?"

"Aye."

"Kyle Roarke is the owner, he's the son of Brendan Roarke," Scrum sneered. "One of the Kings. I'll get him, you create the diversion."

"Which car?" she asked looking out at the nearly empty lot.

"Any of them but that grey _Renault Clio," he nodded his head in its direction. "You blow up his car, he's going to make a fuss and everyone will be paying attention to him. We want everyone paying attention to someone else being entirely hysterical."_

She nodded and pulled the small plastic explosive out of the large pocket of her hoodie. "Are you sure? This doesn't look like much."

"Put that away," he hissed. Grey-blue eyes glittering with adrenaline. "And be careful, it might not look like much but it's fucking dangerous. I don't need you blowin' yourself to bits on my conscious."

Trinity cringed. "Alright, alright, I'll be careful."

"Make sure you're a good fucking distance before you blow a car all to hell. _"_

"Yeah, I know," she snapped. "I'm not stupid."

"It's just a fair fucking warning," Scrum replied just as irritably. "Are you ready? Are you sure you wanna do this?"

"Jesus Christ, you sound like you're talking to a fucking virgin." They both kept a straight face for all of three seconds before bursting out into hysterical laughter, the tension of what they were about to do finally breaking. "I've got this, and I'm sure," she informed him once she got herself back under control. "They took someone from me, someone from you. Time we took something from them, right?"

"Aye, just, you know, don't blow yourself up."

"Got it," she insisted.

"Right, give me five to get into position in the bar. I want eyes on this bastard before that thing gets set off.'

"Five minutes," she repeated as she watched him walk off.

_::_

Happy followed Indiana all the way back to the little house in Charming. He didn't like the idea of leaving her alone given her mental state, especially not when she was supposed to be back at the clubhouse and under protection. She'd taken pills, a shower, and dressed in a crisp white pant suit that looked stupid gorgeous on her lithe body. Her golden skin stood out and her flaxen hair had been pulled into a messy bun at the nape of her neck, tendrils escaping and curling down her back, still damp from the shower. He watched her pace through the kitchen on the phone, reassuring Emily that she was just fine and he waited until she hung up.

"Are you sure you want to go into work?" Happy asked. "I can take you back to the clubhouse."

"I really don't want to go back to the clubhouse, Hap," she whispered, her large blue eyes begged him to understand. "Not right now."

He nodded. "Alright. But I'm staying with you at Diosa."

"I'm not going to run off again," she protested.

His stare hardened. "We've pissed off a few people lately. Quinn asked Tig to watch you and Emily. Humour me, for his sake. When Quinn gets back and finds out you're not there, Tig is going to be in deep-"

"Trouble unless you're with me, I get it," she replied. "I just need to grab my purse and then we can go." Unable to help himself, he turned to watch the sway of her hips as she turned down the hall.


	35. Cornered

_Holy. Fucking. Shit._

The sporty little car became a gorgeous fireball with an impressive concussive blast that broke the windows on the cars parked on either side. Trinity stared in absolute awe. She hadn't expected the little device that Scrum had given her to pack such a punch.

She stayed back, remaining on the fringe of those who had clustered around to check out the wreckage. Some quietly muttered to one another, others looked around as if expecting to see someone wearing an _'I did it'_ t-shirt. A few men came out the back door of Roarke's but she didn't see Scrum.

"No! No!" One man shouted as he ran his hands through his hair. "My car! What the fuck?"

"Who the fuck did you piss off?" Another angry man asked while pointing to the damage to his own car, broken glass and burning paint. "Now I'm going to have to call my insurance company! This is going to kill my rates!"

"Everyone get back!" A woman shouted. "Jesus, what if the gas tank hasn't blown yet!"

Trinity was so into watching the drama unfold that she nearly missed watching Scrum weave his way through the crowd and press a gun into Kyle's back. She missed whatever Scrum said but she did catch and hold his gaze. He gave his head a little jerk, beckoning her. After taking one last look at the burning vehicles, she trailed behind Scrum.

::

Happy had no trouble keeping an eye on Indiana's car while he escorted her to Diosa. No one would, not with that neon eyesore. He followed her into the lot and took notice of the police car at the front of the lot. He parked beside Indiana, killed the engine, and removed his helmet while staring at the police vehicle. "Any ideas?" he asked her when she stepped out of her vehicle.

"Maybe it's a problem with the lease considering the financial situation," Indiana suggested with a shrug of her shoulders. The two fell into step with one another as they walked toward Diosa's front doors.

Wordlessly, Happy opened the door for her and ushered her in first. Diosa appeared to be running the same as always. Too early to be open, but most of the girls with morning appointments were already walking around in their tall heels and sexy dresses. Lyla sat at the front desk and Byz-Latz were around for security.

"Hey Lyla," Indiana greeted the other woman in a hushed voice.

"Indiana?" Lyla blinked in surprise. She knew about the death of Indiana's Old Man. She vaguely remembered the time after Opie died, a blur of devastation and alcohol. The drink had numbed her for a time but she'd been nothing short of an absolute wreck after his passing. In no world could she ever imagine having the strength to pick up and go to work the next day after losing a loved one. "I didn't expect you in. I heard." She grimaced as the words fell out of her mouth. "I just mean, my condolences. If-"

"Please," Indiana plead softly. She couldn't manage more words, she simply shook her head.

The need to comfort was so ingrained into Lyla's persona that she reached out and took Indiana's hand. "If you need anything," she left the offer open.

Indiana nodded her head. "Thank you."

Happy stepped right up behind Indiana as a pair of Charming PD officers walked past and out the door. He stared down at Lyla. "Where is Nero?"

"Well, he and Primo were talking to those cops in his office," Lyla replied. "So it's a good bet that he'd still be there."

He gave a sharp nod of his head before his hand went to Indiana's shoulder and prompted her into motion. They walked down the hall, around a couple of gossiping women and straight to Nero's office. Indiana knocked and they both waited until the door opened. Primo stared at them, frowned and moved out of the way.

"Happy, Indiana," Nero greeted. Dark circles under his eyes gave away how exhausted he felt. He waved them toward the leather chairs on the opposite side of the desk. "I heard what happened with your Old Man, Indie. I'm sorry."

Tears pricked at her eyes and she bit down hard on the inside of her cheek to keep from openly sobbing. Instead, she forced a nod and hoped that Happy would keep the conversation off of her.

"What's with the cops?" Happy asked. Police made him wary. He'd spent more than enough time inside of a prison and didn't relish the thought of returning any time soon.

Nero ran a hand over his face as though he could simply erase his morning. "Mason, one of my accountants, was murdered last night."

Happy cursed; Indiana's jaw dropped. "Was he involved in any other Byz-Latz business?" Happy asked.

"No. He just worked accounts for Diosa," Nero replied.

"You split up the information." Indiana chewed on her bottom lip as she weighed the new information. "Is it possible that whoever is syphoning money out of Diosa needed the access Mason had?"

Happy leaned back in the chair and looked over at her. "What do you mean?"

"All of Diosa's finances were split up, each of the three accountants only had access to what they needed to complete one part of the job," Indiana explained. "If Mason had an account number or access that someone else didn't-"

"You think it's worth killing for?" Nero interrupted, the raised eyebrow emphasising his doubt. "I've always thought this was either personal or for sheer financial benefit, but murdering an accountant?"

"What this company has been robbed of is more than 'sheer financial benefit," Indiana retorted, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. "I don't doubt that this is personal, so personal that murdering an accountant was deemed an acceptable risk."

"I've been out of the game for years, _Chica_ ," Nero argued. "Went legit for my kid. Any big grudges I had were dealt with years ago."

Indiana shrugged. She didn't really believe that anyone would stick around and continue robbing Nero into the red if it weren't deeply personal. Too much risk, even with the large reward. Especially now when Diosa really didn't have any money left and yet finances were still being botched. Someone wanted to shut Diosa down for good.

"Maybe Mason got caught fucking someone's wife," Primo offered from where he leaned against the wall. "Crazier shit has happened. Point is, we really don't know anything more now than we did before those officers came in."

Realizing that further speculation wouldn't solve a dam thing, Indiana stood. "I need to get back to work."

Happy grabbed her wrist. "I'll stick around until you're done." She looked over her shoulder and stared at him. His dark eyes narrowed. "You don't leave without me."

She nodded. "I won't, promise."

::

Maureen paced the small space like a caged animal. She worried first and foremost about her daughter. The thought of her baby girl in a room like this made her stomach churn. She'd say anything, do anything to get her child out of this place, get Trinity back to safety. She sat heavily on the cot as her mind played games with her, thinking of all the horrific things that could be done to her child.

The door swung open, a man slipped inside and hurried to shut the door quietly. Cain turned and let out a sigh. "Mo."

"Cain?" Marureen stood as she stared at the man she'd long ago called friend. "What are you doing here?"

"I overheard some of the other men talking," he whispered hastily as he walked over to her. "Have they come to talk to you yet? You're not hurt, are you?" He inquired as he rubbed her arms with his hands which generated heat that pierced through the bitter cold of the room.

"No one has come but you," she replied with a quick shake of her head. "And no, I'm fine. Trinity, do you know where Trinity is?" Panic-stricken thinking of her daughter, Maureen grabbed him by the front of his shirt. "Is she okay?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," his deep voice went lower. "I heard the other men talking. She isn't here."

"But you said-"

"That's what they told me. They know we go way back, Mo," Cain explained. When he threw a nervous glance at the door, Maureen's heart leapt to her throat. "They were testing me. And, I guess I failed."

"What now?" she asked warily.

"I need to get you out of here."

"You were born into the IRA," Maureen stared up into his eyes. "You'd betray them?" Shock hit her first, she hadn't expected him to pull her against his hard body and she sure as hell hadn't expected the kind of kiss that they hadn't shared since high school.

"Some things are worth the risk." The breath of his words caressing her lips. "Come on, Trinity needs you," he grabbed her by the hand and led her to the door. "Let's get you out of here."

::

The sky darkened, burnt umbers merged with deep blues as the sun slowly lowered. Trinity stood by the window of the utilitarian apartment. A scraping sound had her looking over her shoulder at the gagged man tied to a chair. Hard to believe she'd been an accomplice to kidnapping. She looked passed the man to Scrum who sat in a chair with a notepad. "Whose place is this?"

Scrum looked over at her, the sadness in his eyes held the answer. He set aside the notepad and stood. Slow, menacing steps brought him over to Kyle. "It's my brothers." And since the son of the man responsible for that death was there, he used the man to vent some of that rage with one solid punch to the ribs. "But he won't be using it anymore."

"So now what?" Trinity asked, nervously wringing her fingers. "Do we call?" Scrum had confiscated Kyle's phone which now started to ring, _and ring, and ring_. "Do we answer it?"

Scrum picked up the phone and looked at the caller ID. "Well, what do you know? It's dear old Da." Kyle fought against his bindings and tried to speak around the gag only to create incomprehensible muffled sounds. He motioned Trinity over and answered the phone by pressing the speaker button. "Hello, Brendan Roarke."

_"Who is this? Let me talk to my son!"_

Scrum's eyes flicked over to the bound and gagged man. A small, wicked smile formed on his lips. "We're going to need to talk terms if you want that to happen."

::

Cain grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into a tight alcove. They both held their breaths until the two chatting men walked on by and out of sight. "Quickly," he insisted grabbing her wrist this time as he dragged her back down the hall. They could hear the voices of numerous men behind a door they passed. "They're coming out. I'll stall them. You go."

"What?" Maureen spun to face him. "What about you? They'll know."

"There aren't any cameras. They won't know shit," Cain argued. "I can buy you some time. Time you need. Your daughter is out there, Mo. Trini is out there somewhere… alone?"

Maureen shook her head. "If she was never brought in, she'll be safe."

"With friends?"

"You should come with me. If they find out-"

"I can't." He kissed her again, muddling her brain. "You know I can't. Now go, quick," he gave her a bit of a push as the door behind them opened. "Go!"

Maureen took off out the door and didn't look back.

::

Slipping out into the early afternoon light, Indiana readjusted her purse and took a quick look around the lot. There were plenty of cars, most belonged to the girls, a couple to the Byz-Latz working security and only one motorcycle. Happy leaned against his Dyna, smoking a cigarette. She stopped and just stared at him for a second. Not handsome, at least not in the classical sense, but good looking in that rough around the edges kind of way. The stony and untouchable demeanor would detract most from getting close but she knew he had a heart of loyalty and valour. Deep down, he was a good man, one of the best she'd ever known.

She'd loved him for as long as she could remember. That love had transformed over the years from the innocence of youth to the desire of adulthood. Even when they had their fights, even after he broke her heart, even when she was so mad she thought she'd burst, she had loved him. And right now, that love managed to both cut her open and heal her. Of course, just like everything else when it came to Happy, nothing could be simple.

She walked across the lot and ignored the fluttering in her stomach when he turned to look at her.

"Jax called," he told her as he stubbed out his cigarette. "Quinn is back, brought some of the SAMTAC guys with him."

She nodded. "Okay. That's good."

"Called in my vote," he told her. Dark eyes focused on blue. "We're going after Kane. Tonight."

The news brought a wave of dizziness that threw off her balance. Happy's arms were around her in a second and she felt safe against the solid wall of his chest. "The hell?" he muttered. "You okay?"

She shut her eyes against the spinning feeling. "So soon?"

"Hit them hard and hit them fast," Happy replied.

Fear cut straight to her heart and sent it into double time. Her breath caught as she tried to keep a lid on the sudden onslaught of panic. Fingers trembling, she gripped the front of Happy's shirt while her knees threatened to give out. "No," the single word escaped her lips.

His arms tightened around her. "Indie?"

Panic overwrote logic. Her hands slid up his chest before her arms wrapped around his neck. "Mac didn't come back. Don't go."

The plea contradicted her earlier actions. Her pearl handled Colt still hung snugly in the shoulder holster he wore under his dark hoodie, and he would make good on his promise to put three bullets in the son of a bitch who'd killed Mac. He rubbed small circles on her back. "Everyone will come back. I have to go. For Mac." _For you_. "I have to go."

Her laboured breaths worried him and when she drew back just a little he saw the tear tracks on her face. He'd faced her mindless panic before after she'd been attacked by Joshua Manning, although he didn't really relish the thought of slapping her again to snap her out of it. Instead, he wrapped her long braided hair around his hand and pulled down just slightly. A little gasp escaped her lips and his body reacted. His mind raced with erotic fantasies that he couldn't act on. Not now. Especially not with the Mac's death still hanging over both of their heads. With his other hand, he grabbed her chin. "You know this life, Indie. You're stronger than this."

"I'm so scared," she whispered. "Every single day."

He felt the tremor run through her body and heard the hitch in her breath. The brave young woman admitting fear made him want to tuck her away somewhere safe where nothing could ever harm her. He couldn't do that, but she did have the toughest SOB for a father and Happy, himself would do anything in his power to protect her. "You'll be safe."

"No one is safe," she scoffed at the very idea. "Besides, it's not me I'm worried about."

That pure spirit, the empathy and love to care about someone else more than she cared about her own well-being drew him closer. She reminded him in that sense of his mother. The kindness, the easy smile and nurturing nature.

Breathing easier, she rested her head against his shoulder. "Sorry. I'm not making this easier on you."

"How long have you been prone to panic attacks?" he asked, releasing her braid and continuing the comforting little circles on her back.

"What? Panic attacks?" she drew back and let out a little nervous laugh only to be pulled back into his chest.

He kept a leash on his temper. "How long?"

She let out a long sigh. "I guess they started in University. Classes were stressful, being away from home was hard, working and making ends meet." She shrugged her shoulders and allowed herself a moment to revel in the comfort he provided even knowing she'd feel guilty over it later. "Things just build up and-" she shook her head. "And then panic, you know?"

"This hasn't been an easy time for you."

That reminder had her thoughts returning to Mac and she drew away. "And it just continuously gets worse." She felt like such a slut. Her Old Man's ashes hadn't even been scattered yet and already she found herself pressed against another man. "You need to get to the clubhouse right?" She took another step back and then turned away from him.

"Wait."

Closing her eyes, she paused. "Yeah, Hap?"

"Here." She turned around and stared at the gun he pulled out of his saddle bag. "I know you're used to a revolver, but you can handle a Glock, right?"

"Yeah, of course," Indiana replied, staring at the weapon.

He grabbed her hand and molded it to the gun he placed in her palm. "Unregistered. Ten rounds per clip. Semi-auto. Probably be an easier shot than with your revolver, less kick."

She easily remembered target practice with her father and while she had a preference for her revolver she could handle a pistol just fine. "I know," she replied turning the gun in her hand getting used to the weight and feel of it.

"I doubt you'll have to use it, but just I don't want to have your only gun in the event you need it."

Carrying a weapon was simply a side-effect of her parentage, but it still bothered her. She checked the safety before she put it into her purse. Taking a deep breath, she looked back up at Happy and nodded. "Thank you."

"Are you good to drive?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Alright, let's get going."


	36. Vengeance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish terms of endearment that are in this chapter/future chapters  
> Mi Reina- my queen  
> Dulzula- sweetness

When Indiana and Happy walked into the clubhouse, it felt alive. There were more patched members in the SAMCRO clubhouse than Happy could remember seeing since Opie's wake. Crow Eaters sauntered around and entertained the men. Byz-Latz members that were coordinating with them tonight mostly stuck to their own little group. He spotted Tara disappearing down the hall with Abel and Thomas and respected Jax for not taking chances with his family. Gemma sat at the bar ordering V-Lin around despite the fact he'd earned his full patch. Lowen sat at a small table with a pile of paperwork, but she chatted away with Bobby. Tink and Emily sat alone at a table with a bottle of Tequila, two shot glasses and a little bowl of fresh cut limes- something Happy figured they'd brought in themselves.

"Hey." Both Happy and Indiana turned at the sound of Quinn's voice. The large man looked down at his daughter, concerned. "Heard you went to work today."

"Needed to be out of here. Needed to do something," she replied, her quiet voice managed to cut through the noise. "Hap stuck with me. I wasn't alone."

Quinn nodded and gave Happy a friendly punch in the arm. "Thanks, brother." Happy nodded in return but felt guilty about how much trust Quinn instilled in him when he still couldn't keep the lustful thoughts about Indiana at bay.

"Is this going to be a full lockdown?" Indiana questioned as her eyes scanned over the area that was more friendlies than patches.

"For tonight," Quinn replied, squeezing her shoulder. "Just to be sure."

Indiana nodded and stood a little taller. "Alright. Stay safe."

He ruffled her hair. "Always, Little Anarchist."

::

The children were all snuggled up on the couch under a large knit blanket while they watched a movie. Lyla stepped out into the cool night air and took a seat on the front porch beside Primo. An owl hooted off in the distance, the only noise that broke through the moment of silence.

Jax had asked her to come in for the lockdown but she'd refused. The kids were finally beginning to seem at ease in the little cottage and she didn't want to ruin that. Besides, she didn't feel like they were in any immediate danger, especially not when the SOA boys would be busting down Kane's door and ruining his set-up. She feared the coming days, those would be open to further retaliation. Subtly, she shifted, her knee brushing up against Primo's thigh.

His hand warmed her lower back, his thumb rubbing small circles. "You okay?"

She took in a deep breath as she tried to find some semblance of peace. The children's laughter could be heard from where they sat. The owl hooted again and the crickets chirped in the overgrown grass. The heat of his touch warmed her. His steady presence made her feel as secure as one could be in such a perilous situation. One man had already lost his life because of her regrettable life choices. Her stomach knotted up at the thought of what could happen to the SAMCRO men she had come to know, love and respect.

"I'm just nervous." She wiped her damp palms against her jeans. "I just want everyone to come home safe."

He too worried over his fellow Byz-Latz and the Sons he'd come to know. As much as he would like to be out there with the other guys he didn't really trust anyone else to watch over Lyla and the children. He slung an arm over her shoulders and pulled her closer in an act of solidarity. "They will." They have to.

::

Gemma didn't like it, but she understood and respected his choice. She wrapped her arms around Nero's neck and pulled him into a slow burning kiss. Lyla worked for him and that brought her some measure of protection from the Byz-Latz, especially Nero. Besides, anyone could see the frustration and rage boiling up as Diosa sunk, he needed to vent some of those turbulent emotions. She pulled back and stared up at him. "No unnecessary risks." Her dark eyes narrowed. "You come back safe."

"Don't worry so much, _mi reina_ ," Nero insisted as his thumb brushed along her kiss swollen lips.

"Boss, we're ready to go," Raul said, breaking the moment between the two.

"I'll see you soon." Nero left her with one last kiss before he walked off with his brother-in-arms.

Gemma huffed out a breath and walked over to where other women were watching the men drive off, the vans with the Byz-Latz, the thunderous rumble of the motorcycles coming to life. It never got any easier to see her loved ones ride off to battle. The last of the motorcycles drove out and a few of the remaining SOA members locked up and took their posts as security.

She turned around to see a mix of Old Ladies, Crow Eaters, mechanics and other friends of the club. They couldn't all just be standing outside as easily spotted targets. She stood a little straighter and planted her hands on her hips. "Come on, everyone back inside!"

Most listened and funneled back into the clubhouse. Only the Nomad Old Ladies remained. She already knew Indiana, who hadn't moved from her perch on the picnic table, her elbows resting on her knees as she stared over where the motorcycles had been and where her deceased Old Man's still sat. Gemma had spent some time observing the other two women. Emily stood by the corner of the clubhouse biting her thumb nail, eyes on the gate that now shielded them from outsiders.

Tink pushed her hand back through her chin length hair before her startling blue eyes turned to Gemma. "Do you know anything about this 'Kane' guy they're after?" she asked quietly.

"Not much," Gemma reluctantly admitted. She had less information on the whole predicament she'd like. She sized up Rane Quinn's Old Lady. Such a delicate little thing.

"Clearly, his crew is dangerous." Hands balled into fists at her sides. Anger and grief still clashed over the death of Mac.

Gemma raised her eyebrows just slightly as she looked down at the diminutive woman. "You're worried about Quinn."

Tink's jaw jutted out and her eyes narrowed. "He can handle himself."

A little surprised by the anger suddenly being directed at her, Gemma crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't doubt the man's abilities. Few men could be considered a tougher SOB than Rane."

Tink's shoulders dropped and she blew out a long breath. "It never gets easier."

"I hear you." And she did. The two of them were the elite. Old Ladies with decades of club life under their belt. They were respected and revered within their own charter houses. They understood each other with no words necessary. "We should get inside."

Tink nodded. "Em." The young woman turned her head and shoved her hands into the pockets of her ironed grey slacks. "Inside, okay?"

"Yeah." Emily turned from Tink to Indiana. "Indie?"

Tink sighed and walked in front of the young woman she proudly thought of as her own daughter. "Indie. We need to go inside."

"They're all coming back." Her conviction had the other women staring at her. "This gets settled. For Mac."

"That's right, baby," Tink cooed as she wrapped her hand around Indiana's arm. "That's absolutely right. Now, let's go inside and wait for them to return." Indiana stood and allowed herself to be led back inside with Tink and Emily flanking her.

Gemma looked around the nearly empty lot one last time. She trusted the guys, trusted that they had each other's backs but now more than ever she felt like she had so much to lose. Thinking of Nero, she touched the scar between her breasts and prayed that he came back to her in one piece.

::

Jax, Happy and Quinn led the way through the woods and paused at the tree line. One of Kane's men stood by the line of parked cars, the cherry of his cigarette casting a soft glow upon his face.

"I'll take care of it," Quinn growled. He kept low as he moved under the cloak of darkness. He had no intention of dying tonight. He wanted to get back to his Old Lady and check on his daughter. Rage simmered but he kept his feelings at bay. No good ever came of going into battle emotionally compromised, if you made moves with your heart you make mistakes, smarter to go in with your head firmly on your shoulders.

He moved nearly silent along the line of cars that told him there were far more targets inside the building. He looked through a tinted side window, through the windshield and got a visual on the guard who dropped his cigarette and stubbed it into the gravel driveway. Quinn moved quickly and before the man could even let out so much as a gasp of surprise Quinn had snapped his neck in a quick and efficient manner. He lowered the body to the ground and motioned for the guys at the tree line that it was clear.

Joined by his brothers, they looked at the side door. "Everyone good?" Jax asked, keeping his voice low. Nero looked back at his men before turning back to Jax and nodding.

Happy flipped the safety off his Glock, much better to have it in hand in the event that a firefight started. He touched the pearl handle of Indiana's Colt that was tucked into his leather shoulder holster. He patted the club president on the shoulder and as SAA vowed to stick close. "Let's move."

::

In Jax's room at the clubhouse, Tara sat at the desk and watched their two boys slept together in the twin sized bed. So peaceful. She turned her attention to a framed picture of her with Jax, back when her hair was long and their smiles were carefree. She longed for those days. A picture of Abel and Thomas was tacked to a corkboard, the boys both smiling brightly. She didn't regret coming back to Charming, didn't regret getting back with Jax. How could she? She'd received two beautiful boys, her sons, how could she ever regret the path that had brought them together?

Still, MC life had an edge of cruelty, a heavy cloud of danger that constantly hung overhead, the stench of blood that refused to be purified and the fiendish fear fed on her soul. She worried about what would happen to her boys in the future. She fretted over the promises that Jax had made her. Promises that their life would get better, that the club moved in a better direction and yet tonight they were out for blood.

Instead of joining the other adults out in the bar, she sat like a statue in the chair, watching over her boys and waiting for her husband to return to her.

::

Emily found Indiana in the solitude of a small corner table. With complete disregard for her friend's obvious desire to be alone, she pulled up a second chair and dropped down into it. Indiana blatantly ignored her for the next five minutes and finally her patience came to an end. "Hey." She rapped her knuckles on the table. "Talk to me." Blue eyes flicked her way and then returned to whatever spot on the wall they'd originated. "This isn't easy for me either, you know."

Nostrils flared. "Don't guilt me."

"I just want you to talk about-"

"I don't want to!"

"I know," Emily growled in response. She tried to leash her own emotions to help her friend. Better to be distracted by someone else's problems then her own. "But you know what happens when you bottle them up." When she didn't get a response, she kicked her friend under the table.

The blonde hissed out a breath and narrowed eyes shot her a glare. "I'm trying to help you."

Indiana leaned across the table but Emily held up her hand to cut her off before she could even get started. "I know it hurts to lose Mac," Emily's whisper remained even and sympathetic. "I know you feel guilty because you never really loved him." She hissed out a breath when Indiana opened her mouth to protest. "I know you've been in love with Happy since you were a teenager. I know what your teacher did to you-"

"Don't go there," Indiana hissed through clenched teeth.

"And I know that sticks with you in your romantic relationships."

"Em. I'm fucking serious. Don't. Go. There."

"I love you, Indie," Emily cursed and pushed her hands through her dark curls. "But I'm trained in this shit and you're one step away from the ledge. I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine."

"Bullshit."

"What is it you want from me?" Indiana snapped.

"I want you to be okay at the end of this."

"I was born into this life. I've lived with it for twenty-seven years. I can deal with it."

Emily sat back in her chair and studied the offensive posturing of her friend ready for a fight. Better than the shrunken back defensiveness she'd saw in the other woman earlier. "What happened between you and Happy last night?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, really?" The brunette raised an eyebrow, emphasizing her disbelief.

Indiana's shoulders relaxed as she mirrored her friend's more casual position. "I think I told him some shit. I don't remember it all. I drank a lot before he found me." She caught the inquiring expression on her friend's face and sighed. "Happy found me before I did anything too regrettable." She averted her gaze to her hands and pushed her cuticles back. "Took me to a motel."

"I'll castrate him if he took advantage of you."

A small smirk tugged on Indiana's lips. "That won't be necessary."

"So, what are you going to do about that?"

"About what?"

Emily sighed heavily. "Happy."

Indiana remembered the crushing kisses through the haze of alcohol. One would need to be dead to forget that kind of moment. "Nothing." What could she do? Even if he wanted her sexually, and she wanted him in every way possible it simply wasn't feasible. He would always see her as the daughter of a friend, he would never want to take an Old Lady and she couldn't accept being a 'classless fuck' even if he had caught her in a compromising situation in which she had to admit she would have been just that.

"You deserve every happiness, Indie," Emily said solemnly and then cracked a smile. "No pun intended."

"Not everyone in this life gets a happy ending," she glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Just look at Mac."

::

Bullet casings littered the floor of the warehouse. Blood stained the old tiles. Kane's crew laid in heaps on the floor with only three men left. One made a mad dash for the door but Nero put four bullets into the man's back. The last two had been avoided by the gang and MC members. They'd been marked for death by specific hands.

Oliver Kane's wide eyes stared up at Jax, his hands up in surrender. "Please, please, we'll erase the debt."

He thought of the woman his best friend had taken as an Old Lady. "Too late," Jax growled coldly before he fired once. He kicked Kane's limp and lifeless body just once. "Piece of shit."

The last man standing glared as the Sargent at Arms came forward. Mac's killer spat on his kutte, like some kind of final insult. Happy's fingers clenched around the gun and he drew it from the holster. "You killed one of my brothers," he growled. Aiming for the right thigh, he pulled the trigger.

The man let out an anguished cry and fell to his knees. "Fuck you!"

Happy calmly crouched down in front of the soon to be deceased. He pressed the barrel against the man's ribs. "This is for Mac." Finger tightened around the trigger. The man fell back and writhed on the floor in pain. Happy waited, letting the man suffer for as long as possible before the struggling slowed and breathing became short and shallow. The killer wouldn't just run out of time, he would die on Happy's terms. Pressing the barrel against the man's temple, he cocked back the hammer. "And this is for Indie."

The last shot echoed in the warehouse.

::

Long after she had tucked the children into their beds, Lyla pulled the cardigan closer as she watched Jax ride off. The chill she felt though had nothing to do with the temperature. He had personally come in the middle of the night to tell her that the problem had been solved. She didn't need to be told just what that meant. Oliver Kane and those who worked for him were dead. She wouldn't be surprised to hear tomorrow that a warehouse down on Rugger's Lane had caught fire. They wouldn't just leave evidence of a mass murder. Perhaps to uncomplicated things they would drag the bodies out for a long night of burials.

Her stomach lurched and she rushed down the stairs of the deck. Sweat beaded on the back of her neck but she couldn't recall ever feeling so cold. Tears welled in her eyes and her lungs burned with the inability to get enough air.

"Lyla?" Primo took a step toward her. "Come on. Inside." She turned to him with tears in her eyes and it was his undoing. He closed the distance between them and pulled her against his chest.

With his strong arms wrapped around her, she gripped the front of his shirt and wept. The stress of the past week catching up to her in violent force. Lives were lost because of her terrible life choices. And now, she no longer needed a bodyguard but the thought of Primo leaving had a sob escaping her lips.

"Shh," he ran his hand through her long blonde hair. "I've got you. It's okay."

A tremor ran through her frame. "I know you're only here to guard me so long as Kane was a threat," she sniffled and put her arms around his neck. "Stay the night. Please, please, stay the night. Don't leave me alone right now."

" _Dulzura_ ," his arms tightened around her. "I'm not going anywhere."


	37. Yearning

The night held a bitter chill and Indiana wished that she had thought of grabbing a sweater before she'd snuck out. She couldn't take the crowd, the noise or the heavy second-hand smoke. Ever since she first started to walk, her father had told her she had an independent spirit and she figured because of it she needed a little alone time now and then. The situation didn't help. Duty bound her to Diosa even when she itched to run. The past haunted her, the present tripped her up and her future remained as foggy as ever.

Perhaps, more than anything, Happy stood arrogantly at the forefront of her mind. Just the thought of him twisted her up; mind, body and soul. She couldn't remember the time before he came into her life, too young. She loved him right from the get go. A different love then, for sure. A pure love, an innocent love. That love had grown as she had, changed as he switched roles in her life. He'd been her friend, protector, confidant, councillor, and lover; with that she'd gone from easy affection, to adoration, respect, yearning, and finally to heartbreaking infatuation. Young and stupid.

"Still young and stupid," she muttered to herself as she dropped down onto the swing. The little playground at Teller-Morrow made her frown. Fingers trailed down the icy chain. Children of the MC life were doomed to repeat the cycle. She thought she could beat it, thought she could be something more than a sweetbutt or Old Lady and worth something more than her body.

A violent gust of wind rattled the chain of the other swing, blew her hair all around her face and shot a shiver down her spine. She raked her hands through her hair, trying to set it to rights. Her eyes shifted, zeroing in on Mac's motorcycle. Tonight would be the second night without him. Grief hit her whenever her mind slipped to him. Guilt hit her after a time of not thinking about him.

Time heals all wounds. Isn't that what everyone says? She didn't imagine time would fill the hole in her chest. Time sure hadn't healed the emotional scars that still bled as much today as they had when she was six. And fuck, did they bleed. Emily was right, what happened with her teacher had never gone away.

Pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes she willed it all away. Deep breathing techniques failed her as all her worries bubbled to the surface. Ever since she'd come to Charming she found it harder and harder to lock away her emotions, her painful memories. Happy had knocked her off balance. Joshua Manning managed to make her feel once again like a helpless child. And Mac-

The sudden sob caught her off guard. "Oh Mac." She breathed deep but couldn't hold it as the grief and wave of anxiety crashed over her. "I'm sorry," she blurted, realizing fully that she spoke to a dead man and wondered what Emily would say that said about her mental state. "I'm so sorry." Her breath became painful. Hyperventilating and knowing it, she tried to slow it all down. A blur crouched before her and then focused. "Em?" she wheezed out as she gasped for another breath.

"I'm here." Emily grabbed both of Indiana's hands in her own. "I'm here. Slow it down."

Her hands tightened on her friends, providing an anchor to the world that had greyed at the edges. "Mac-"

With their foreheads touching, Emily squeezed her hands in return. "Mac loved you so much. He wouldn't want you doing this to yourself. He wouldn't want you tying yourself to this grief."

"We fought, Em."

"It's okay."

"He knew I didn't love him." She struggled for breath, fought to make Emily understand. "Not all the way. Not like he loved me."

"That's okay too." Emily's thumbs brushed along Indiana's knuckles. "He was a good man, wasn't he?"

Memories bombarded her; dancing in Sanctuary, shooting hoops, snuggling on the couch, dinners, parties, homecomings, painting their little rented home, cooking/burning breakfast. It all hit her hard and fast. Playful, solid, kind-hearted and loving. The picture of him in her mind shook her from the anxiety attack and brought her back to sobbing. "Yeah. Yeah, he was."

"Right," Emily let her own tears fall. While she knew her friend fought to keep her emotions under wraps- and look at where it brought her- Emily felt no shame at crying over the death of a man she'd loved. "Right, he was a good man, Indie. And he loved you and no matter what would have happened if he'd lived, he'd have loved you in one way or another. That was who he was. That man would not want this for you." She brought her hands to Indiana's face and brushed the tears away with her thumbs. "It's okay to let him go. It's okay to say goodbye."

Indiana nodded, sniffled and drew back just a little. She struggled to find her center, to find control again. "Maybe I shouldn't have quit therapy with you."

"Maybe I should have tried harder to make you stay in it," Emily replied as she dug through her sling bag to find a small pack of tissues. She shoved some into Indiana's hand and then used some to dry her own face. "This life... it's different than what I typically deal with. Different rules. I get scared for you sometimes." Indiana focussed in on Emily, the therapist who rarely spoke up about her own worries. "I know everything about you, you're my best friend… what if I'd mess up, said something wrong, didn't say enough, said too much? It's you. You matter more than most."

"Love you to tits," Indiana mumbled.

Emily pulled her friend close and hugged her fiercely. "Back at you." She drew back and rubbed her hands up and down Indiana's bare arms. "You need to get inside. You're going to catch a cold."

"Give me a minute. You go back inside, I'll be there soon." At Emily's disbelieving look, Indiana huffed out a breath. "Promise."

"Alright. I'll give you ten to pull it together. You're not back in there by then and I'll bring Tink out with me."

"That's playing dirty." Indiana's eyes narrowed even as her lips twitched.

"I like it dirty," Emily replied and both women let out a hoot of laughter. "Ten minutes."

Indiana nodded and watched her friend return inside.

::

"I really don't like this," Fiona muttered. The motel they stayed in overnight took cash, didn't ask for ID and didn't give a shit what fake name they'd used to sign in. The mattresses sagged, the colours on the wall clashed with the carpet, the faucet in the bathroom leaked and yet the state of the building wasn't even a blip on her radar. Instead, she stared out the window waiting for Filip to return.

"Seamus is more likely to talk to another Son if he's alone," Juice tried to ease her fears, even if he didn't like it one bit more than she did. He arched his back where he sat on the floor trying to get the kink out of it. The beating he'd taken had left his ribs an intense shade of purple, sleeping on the floor hadn't helped. "Chibs is smart, he'll be fine."

The door to the bathroom opened and Kerrianne stepped out. Her damp curls were wound around in a bun and secured with an elastic. Since they hadn't really packed, she ended up stuck back in the same clothes as the day before. "Is Da back yet?"

"Maybe." Fiona stared out the window. "Got a car coming in, old model, easily jacked."

"Wow, I have such law-abiding parents." Kerrianne rolled her eyes. "Such an incredible influence."

"It's him. It's Filip," Fiona breathed a sigh of relief. "He's fine. Oh. My. God." She rushed to the door, yanked it open and stared. Not only had her husband returned all in one piece, but Maureen stepped out of the passenger side. "Inside. Get inside, you two." Chibs ushered the ladies in and shut the door.

"Mo!" Kerrianne nearly tripped over Juice in her hurry. She launched herself into Maureen's arms and the two women stood swaying. "Thank God! Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," Maureen pulled back. "Filip tells me no one knows where my Trini went."

Tears swam to the young woman's dark eyes. "No, I'm sorry, Mo."

"How did you escape?" Fiona asked as the shock wore thin.

"Cain set me loose."

"Cain?" Fiona's mouth dropped open.

Kerrianne backed up and let out a squeak when she hit the hard wall of Juice's chest. She whirled around on him and stared. Her eyes were blank with raw fear and it cut straight to his soul. "We have to go," she whispered. "We need to go." She pushed past Juice and grabbed the knapsack that held precious little, dirty clothes, a toothbrush, half a sub and a couple hundred pounds.

"It's alright," Maureen insisted. "We knew each other in high school. He might be IRA but he set me free."

"He's a slimy, no-good, murderin', rat-bastard," Kerrianne shot back with enough venom to shake the older woman's confidence. "He'll have followed you. We have to go."

The way his daughter spoke left Chibs feeling cold. "Just who is this Cain?"

"He was Jimmy's right hand man," Fiona explained in hushed tones. "He once murdered a young woman right before our daughter's eyes."

There were days when he wished he could kill Jimmy O all over again. He turned to Maureen. "And you trusted him?"

"We go way back." The blonde shrugged her shoulders. "Besides, staying in that room wasn't an option."

"Well, now staying here isn't an option," Filip replied as he looked out the curtains. "There is a car on the road. Watching. Shit! I should have noticed a tail."

"What's done, is done." Fiona ran her hand over his back in small, soothing circles. "Now what do we do about it?"

"I have to find Trinity," Maureen said evenly.

Chibs didn't listen to his wife and old friend bicker their noise drowned out as his focus changed. Eyes set, he saw the way his daughter trembled, saw the raw worry on Juice's face and then the younger man risked life and limb by pulling Kerrianne close and holding her tight. Chibs felt the sudden urge to coldcock the kid but then he saw his daughter's shoulders relax, her arms wrap around his waist and with her cheek pressed against his chest he could see her profile. She'd grown up while he'd been gone. Beautiful as her ma. The worry faded from her face and her lips even tipped upwards at something Juice murmured. When her eyes closed, she looked serene.

"They aren't just going to let us leave!" Fiona's explosion drew the attention of those in the room. "Did he say anything to you that might help?"

Maureen blew out an annoyed breath. "They want to hurt SAMCRO for fucking up their very lucrative pipeline. They're havin' a fucking pissin' contest, Fi. Egos and manhood is in question."

"So they went after my family," Chibs let out a string of curses.

"And now you're in Ireland." Maureen shook her head. "SAMCRO's VP."

"That would make a statement," Chibs raked his hand through his hair. "Not as much as if it had been my girls, but a statement none the less."

"VP or Old Lady, I think we both know which one really holds the weight in this world," Maureen pointed out as she peeked out the window.

Chibs's eyes darkened as they turned to Maureen. "I'd raise Hell itself upon Ireland if they'd hurt my girls."

Slowly, Maureen nodded. "Aye. But they don't know you. Not really. Not what kind of man you are. Regardless, all this talk doesn't get us past those IRA bastards Cain sent on us." She cursed herself. "I did what he wanted, didn't I? Ran right to you."

Fiona put a hand on her friend's shoulder in solidarity. "We'll manage."

Chibs pulled cigarette out and looked over at Juice, who still held his wee lass in his arms. "Airstrip isn't far from here. You remember where?"

Juice looked guilty in the position he'd been caught in but to his credit, he didn't let go. "Yeah, sure."

The plan was only half-formed but he was good at improvising. "I still have Scrum's number. Last we knew, Trinity was with him," Chibs told Maureen. "A SAMBEL member." He lit the cigarette and drew in that first calming breath of nicotine. "You, Fi and I will take the car, those mick bastards will follow us. We'll lose 'em," he said confidently. "Meet up with Trinity and Scrum." He turned and found his daughter half turned out of the embrace but one arm still around Juice. Her eyes were curious and she tilted her head. "Juice is going to take you to the airstrip. You'll be safe there until tonight."

Her heart rate skyrocketed. "We're splitting up?"

It broke his heart, but he wanted to keep her safe so this was his best option. "It's safer that way, Kerri."

Knowing that arguing wouldn't make a difference, she nodded. "You'll be there though." Her dark eyes begged him. "At the airstrip, tonight."

"We'll try." Chibs looked to Juice now. "And if not, you go." He could see it, written on the lad's face, the desire to argue, to stay and to help. Like the past couple shitty years hadn't happened. Like he was the same old Juicy. "What I'm trustin' you with here-"

"I won't let you down," he promised.

Fiona stepped forward but Kerrianne put up her hand to ward her off. "No goodbyes," she said sternly. "You're going to be at the airstrip, remember. I'll see you then."

"Aye," Fiona nodded, proud of the strength her daughter had. "Until then, Lass."

Chibs ignored his daughter's protests and he pulled her from Juice and into his arms. "You listen to Juice. He's a numpty most of the time but this is one instance where he does know what he's doing." He kissed the top of her head. "I love you."

"Love you, now go." He heard her sniffle and released her, she wouldn't make eye contact but he could see the sheen of tears.

Instead, Chibs turned to Juice. The kid had a wariness about him now, a determination, and a hardness that hadn't been there before. He'd never be the same, never be so carefree and goofy but maybe this new shell would help protect him with the club, the life they led. Since finding out that Kerrianne and Fiona were in trouble he'd been Chibs's rock and he'd proved right from Oswald's on that he was in this, whatever it took. It meant something to Chibs. The bruises from Cain were still fresh on Juice's body, but he'd done what he could to make sure the brute hadn't got one hand on Fiona. A simple 'thank you' didn't suffice. No, things wouldn't be as they were before and maybe they'd burnt their bridge months ago but fuck, they could build a new one.

Chibs stuck out his hand. "Brother."

From the clear emotion in Juice's eyes- maybe he wasn't as far gone as Chibs had once assumed. The men clasped hands, came in close and smacked each other hard on the back. "Brother," Juice repeated the word and the weight of the world fell from his shoulders.

"So manly," Fiona mocked. "Now let's hurry. Doesn't look like either in the car is paying much attention. You two wait until the coast is clear." Dark eyes narrowed on Juice. "No risks."

"No ma'am."

"Ma'am," Fiona snorted. "God, that makes me feel old."

::

Indiana checked the time on her phone. She still had five minutes to pull herself together before Emily came after her with the cavalry. The howling wind didn't cover the sound of the gate being pulled back, nor the growling metal beasts that drove in and parked. She gripped the chains of the swing and slowly stood, not quite trusting her legs after the emotional upheaval. She looked among the men who dismounted, she'd already spotted her father and looked around, every second with an increasing worry for Happy.

There. The tension in her shoulders drained when she laid eyes on him. "Happy," she whispered an as if his name had been carried along the howling wind, he turned and stared.

Her knees threatened to buckle and she took two shaky steps back until the back of her knees hit the swing and she dropped down into it. He left his brothers, walked around and into the little gated playground. He stood close, staring down at her. Heaven and Hell in one package. Dark jeans hung dangerously low on his lean hips and she swore she saw specks of blood on them. His charcoal grey hoodie covered most of the white t-shirt he wore underneath. Despite the loose material of that hoodie, she could make out where her gun sat in the shoulder holster. She could practically smell the violence and death he'd caused but it didn't quell the dark desire to rush into his arms.

He huffed out an angry breath, shook his head and unzipped his hoodie. "Fucking stupid women."

Surprise kept the anger at bay. "Excuse me?"

He pulled the hoodie off and draped it over her shoulders. "Stupid women not wearing coats in the cold."

She shifted enough so that she could get her arms in and enjoyed the residual warmth of him. "Are you calling me stupid, Hap?" He ignored her as he crouched down and did up the zipper of his sweater like she was once again a child. Oddly, it pulled on her heartstrings to have him care for her in such a way. Nothing demanded, just a sweet gesture, one she'd nearly forgotten him to be capable of. Since the gesture was kind, she'd forget the harsh words. "Thank you."

He pulled her Colt from the holster. "Reload it when you get in."

"Should I be keeping it?" She reached, grabbed the familiar pearl handle. "Ballistics-"

"Don't worry about a murder being tied to it." His voice no more than a gruff whisper still had the power to make her legs feel like Jello. "No body, no murder, right? Besides, it was a gift wasn't it?"

"Yeah, but a gift isn't worth prison time." With the familiar weight in resting in her hands she felt more secure, like a part of her father was once again with her and that made her untouchable. She looked back to Happy. "It's done."

"It's done," he agreed.

She took a deep breath and nearly trembled with the overwhelming desire to kiss him all because he'd killed for her. How fucked up was that? She took another breath to steady herself, but instead she inhaled the scent of him and it damn near cleared away common sense. "Thank you," she forced the words past her lips. "It doesn't cut it, not for what you did, but-"

"From you, it's enough."

The words were enough to give her pause. The two stared at each other, neither quite knowing what to say now.

"Indie!" Her father called over by the clubhouse door. "Inside. Now."

There were still men out talking on the lot, some were SAMCRO but a few were from Tacoma. "Walk me in?" She nearly grimaced when the words escaped.

He stood and grabbed her by the back of the neck. "Come on. Inside."

She gave him a half-hearted shove and he gave her one back. They shot each other a grin and walked the rest of the way in a companionable silence.


	38. Beauty and Violence

Gemma sat at the bar while some blonde tart poured shots for the men. SAMTAC brothers had brought along a few Crow Eaters of their own and made a party out of the night. She enjoyed the festive atmosphere. A few of the men had ended up injured, nasty splinters in the arm of one of the SAMTAC brothers after a crate had been blown to bits by a shotgun, Ratboy had ended up nicked in the arm by a knife- and now lapped up the attention of Crow Eaters, and Angus who'd been grazed in the arm by a bullet disappeared down the hall with his Old Lady. It could have been so much worse. Gemma watched Nero play a round of pool against her son, she smiled. It could have been worse- but it wasn't. She knew better than to worry over the 'what ifs,' they would drive you mad.

People danced, drank, laughed, and goofed off, burning away the stress of the day and reveling in life. She tapped her empty glass. "Another," she ordered the woman who looked flustered behind the bar.

"Sure," the blonde Crow Eater tilted her head. "What was that?" Gemma's eyes narrowed. Of course the new little tart couldn't remember her order.

"Gemma?" She turned at the sound of her name and found Indiana leaning against the bar. "Do you mind if I bartend?"

She sat a little straighter in the stool at the request. Part of her liked that the woman had bothered to ask, showed she knew her place in the pecking order. The other part didn't like that the daughter of a former President would be serving drinks rather than one of the lowly Sweetbutts. "These bitches have to learn their place," she said with an absent wave toward the petite blonde behind the counter.

Indiana let out a little sigh and stepped in. "I'd just like the distraction, you know?"

The great mother raked a hand through her dark hair while she gave Quinn's daughter a look over. The vulnerability in the younger woman's eyes made her relent. "Sure. Don't let these tramps walk over you though." Indiana managed a small smile as she traded places with a very relieved looking Crow Eater. Gemma nudged her glass. "Fill me up?"

Indiana picked the glass up. "Sorry, what were you having?"

"Gin and tonic."

Indiana moved efficiently and longed for Sanctuary's gleaming bar, fully stocked wall and fridge. She passed the mixed drink and shrugged. "Sorry, no limes."

Gemma lifted her glass in salute. "It'll do."

"Enjoy."

"Oh, I will," she slipped off the stool and sauntered off toward her man.

::

"Would you stop coddling me?"

"Only if you stop looking so happy about being coddled," Emily replied. She slid both hands down Angus's chest. She'd nearly had a heart attack when he'd walked in with his hand coated in blood, the one he tried to cover the cut in his arm with. She'd patched him up the best she could, stripped down and cuddled in with an infinite amount of relief. Guilty relief. Her best friend had lost her man and Emily felt so fucking relieved not to know that pain as intimately.

"My woman is naked and pressed up against me," he shot her his infamously cocky grin. "Of course I look happy."

She closed her eyes against the tears. The stress of the past few days slamming into her full force. She knew what she'd signed on for and nothing would make her walk away, but occasionally the weight of the life threatened to crush her.

"Hey." She kept her eyes shut despite the way his hand brushed over her hair. Such a gentle gesture from a man of his stature. She'd become attracted to him for his illegally good looks and stayed because of his surprisingly kind and calm nature. His lips brushed against hers with that same kindness and she nearly sobbed. "It's okay."

"I was so worried when you left."

"Honey-"

"And then you came back and you were bleeding."

"Darlin'-"

"I thought my heart would beat right out of my chest."

In a heartbeat she laid flat on her back with his pleasant weight resting on her. "Snuggle-Bunches." He nuzzled against her neck and made her laugh. "Light of my life, Princess."

"Stop," she insisted and giggled again as his lips brushed against the shell of her ear.

"I'm here." His voice had changed, the playfulness stripped away. Her arms came around him and held him tight. "I'm here," he whispered against her ear again.

She pulled back just enough so she could see him. "Love me." She rolled her hips so there could be no confusion as to her meaning. The soft smile on his face soothed her frayed nerves.

"Oh, I do," he breathed before his lips claimed hers.

::

Maureen swore and held on to the car door with a white knuckle grip. Sitting in the back she took a nervous look over the seat to see the IRA were still following them. They swerved to the other side of the road and gravel flew up in a dust cloud. "Filip!" she shrieked as panic slammed through her. "Keep it on the road!"

"We are on the road!"

"The proper side," she shouted back. "Christ! This isn't America!"

"Mo, calm down," Fiona interrupted from the front seat as she pulled a Glock out of her purse. "We're fine." She kept a tight lid on her own panic as she rolled down her window, stuck her head out and fired off a couple of shots.

"Get in here," Chibs grabbed the back of his wife's pants and forced her to sit back in her seat. He reached across while keeping his eyes on the road and started rolling up the manual window. "Don't be stickin' your head out there!"

"We have to get them off our tail," she argued.

"And I will. Now put on your seat belt." He glanced up to the rear-view mirror. "You too, Mo."

A couple of shots fired into the back of their vehicle made Maureen let out a scream which she quickly reigned in. "Sons of bitches!"

"Keep you heads down," Chibs ordered, his hand running over his wife's hair as he shifted as far down in his seat as he could manage while still being able to drive. "Red light coming up. Hold on."

A small warning before he blew through and pulled a hard left just missing the oncoming semi. Their tail wasn't so lucky. The horrific sound of metal against metal gave to the screech of breaks and honks of horns. Chibs didn't even slow down. He sat up and gave a glance in his rear-view. Whoever had been in the car didn't make it.

"Oh shit, oh shit," Maureen looked back and swallowed bile. Taking deep breaths she put her head between her knees trying calm down. They stopped in a parking lot a few blocks away and remained completely silent for a solid five minutes.

Fiona turned the safety on and put the gun back in her purse. "We should get another car."

Chibs nodded and finally released his white knuckle grip on the wheel. "Aye." Shifting, he pulled out his disposable phone and the number Scrum's number. "Mo, call this number."

"Trini?" Her hands shook as she grabbed the phone and the corner piece of paper. She just wanted her little girl back. She dialed and waited and waited and when no one answered she redialled, and redialled, and redialled.

_"Hello?"_ Male annoyance filled the line. _"Who is it?"_

"This is Maureen Ashby. You have my daughter with you. Let me talk to her."

_"Maureen Ashby? But-"_

_"Gimme the phone!"_ Trinity's voice pitched with excitement. " _Is that my Ma?"_ Tears of relief sprung to her eyes when she heard her daughter's voice in the background.

A male groan. _"I don't know, says she's your ma."_

_"Gimme!"_ The line fuzzed out with static and then cleared. _"Ma?"_

"Oh baby." She brushed a hand over her eyes trying to stop the tears. "Are you okay?"

_"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay. Where are you? Are you hurt? How did you get out? Are you out? Oh my God are you sti-"_

"Trini!" she cut her daughter off sharply before hysterics could settle in. "I'm with Filip and Fiona, that's how I got the number to call you. I'm fine. I'm just fine. Where are you?"

_"I'm with Scrum. We're, ah, well-"_

_"Shut it, Trin,"_ Scrum barked in the background.

_"You shut it,"_ she replied lamely.

_"Give her the address to the building,"_ he said. _"You can meet her outside."_

_"This needs to be finished. You can't do it alone."_

_"You're here to get your Ma back. You got her. Tell her where you are."_

_"But wha-"_

Static and mutterings filled the line for a moment. Scrum returned and prattled off the address. _"When will you be here?"_

"We're about a half-hour from there."

_"Good."_ And the line went dead.

"This Scrum fellow needs to brush up on his manners," Maureen informed the other two before she relayed the address. "Let's hurry and get another car. I want to see my girl."

::

In the apartment, Trinity had the same thoughts as her mother. "You really need to mind your manners."

"We blew up a car, kidnapped a man and are now strapping him to blow the fuck up," Scrum replied as he tinkered with the wires on the timer. "I think my manners are probably the least of my concern."

Her hate for the IRA overruled her morals. Sending a man to his father, wrapped up in explosives, wires and a digital timer like some kind of demented Christmas gift bent her morals farther than she'd like. "Are you sure about this?" She wanted him to back out, no good would come of this. If anything, this would ignite the war between the two fractions. When she thought her mother still remained trapped the idea held more weight, tipped the balance for retribution rather than ethics. Now, with her mother free she could see clearly.

He rocked back on his heels as he looked over his work. "I'm sure." He stood and gave her a sad smile. "I'm glad you got your Ma back, Trin."

"Now we don't have to use this man as leverage. We can let him go."

He ushered her into the kitchen and shut the door. "You're going to go with your Ma. Get out of here before the situation gets bad."

"Scrum-"

"You got what you wanted out of this. For you he was a pawn to get your mother back. For me…" he raked his hands through his dark hair. "I don't get my kid brother back, but I'm fucking taking something from Roarke. I'm going to make him know what it feels like. I'm going to show him that the Sons are not going to sit on their asses while the IRA plays power games and kills our men to send a message."

She looked down, wishing she could think of some alternative. "They'll strike back."

"I know."

Her eyes flashed and she shoved him with all of her might. It didn't amount to much. "They will kill you."

He jerked his shoulder. "If you don't live for something, you die for nothing."

Her nostrils flared. "Are you fucking quoting Rambo to me?"

Confusion crossed his face and then he laughed. "No, that's 'Live for nothing, or die for something. **'** " He studied her curiously. "You've watched Rambo?"

She rolled her eyes. "Shut up. We're talking about the guy in the living room that you plan on blowing up!"

"Yeah, and that's my choice. You are going to get the hell out of her with your mother."

He turned and left her in the kitchen alone. She wished that she could find a way to make him change his mind; to protect him from the retaliation that would follow.

::

The steady rhythm of pouring, mixing and memorizing orders kept Indiana's mind busy. When Tig headed her way with an empty, she turned and pulled a fresh beer out of the fridge and switched him without any pause. He tipped the bottle in her direction, flashed a smile and continued on to chat with one of the Tacoma men.

During a lull, she took a look around the room. Her parents played doubles pool against a SAMTAC member and a Crow Eater. Her eyes glazed as she took in the room full of patches, searching for only one. "My stupidity knows no bounds," she muttered under her breath as her eyes finally settled on Happy sitting alone at a table. She wasn't the only one watching him though, she noticed the nervous red-haired Crow Eater standing near his table.

"Didn't your Old Man just die?"

The words made her throat feel tight. She didn't turn, her eyes just shifted to a familiar brunette who leaned against the counter. Eight shots of tequila- and those were just the ones Indiana had poured. She stood just a little straighter, pulling herself up to her full and rather intimidating height. Her teeth clenched. "Excuse me?"

"Mac. Weren't you his Old Lady?" her words were slurred from the drink. And then it clicked. She knew the older Crow Eater, had known her back when she was younger and hung out at Sanctuary and obsessively fawned over Happy. Kayla. She'd hit her in the face with a pool cue and then with her fists. "And now you came in with Happy. You're staring at Happy. Looks like you're already moving on, or maybe you were just spreading your legs for both of them."

She felt as if her veins had filled with ice, and it chilled her straight to the bone. It lasted only a moment before the hot rage boiled up and coated her skin. While she stepped around the bar she pulled the diamond studs from her ears that her father had gotten her for her eighteenth birthday and pocketed them. "Say it again," she growled, her hands balling into fists.

"I'm just telling you to back off," the brunette said as she teetered in her heels. "You already had a Son-"

Rage coloured her vision red and the rest of the world faded away.

::

The men enjoyed watching a good fist fight, and if two women decided to throw down, all the better. The catcalls and cheers drew Quinn's attention. He couldn't see around the small crowd forming by the bar but he knew from the excited way the men shouted he'd find two women in the center of it.

Tink leaned on the cue stick. "Crow Eaters?"

"Likely," Bowie replied. "A couple of the ones we brought are argumentative bitches." As if to keep the Crow Eater to his left in his good graces, he put an arm over her shoulder.

"Get up!" The guttural demand was shouted above the noise.

And Quinn instantly recognized his daughter's voice. "Shit." He moved quickly and could hear the rhythmic clicking of Tink's heels behind him. When he managed to elbow his way to the front of the crowd. Both women were on their feet, circling one another. The dark haired Crow Eater threw a punch, Indiana simply stepped aside. He took half a step forward only to be stopped by Tink. He turned and stared down at her.

"It's not your place, Rane." Her heart fluttered nervously in her chest. She didn't want to see her daughter hurt, but she knew how it would look on Indiana if her father went in to break it up. "She's fine. Leave it."

It went against his protective nature to stand there when the Crow Eater landed a hook punch to his daughter's jaw. If anything, being hit it only seemed to further enrage Indiana. The two exchanged blows which had the men cheering and making bets. Quinn didn't understand while the fight continued, why his daughter kept pulling punches instead of finishing it off.

Indiana's fist connected with the other woman's sternum and the brunette hunched over while she fought for breath. "Want to say it again?" Indiana asked. She tapped two fingers under the other woman's jaw forcing her to look up. "I asked you a question."

He never thought his daughter would have a sadistic streak running through her but she maintained a brutal calm as she waited. The woman shook her head and Indiana nodded. "Good." The vicious uppercut wasn't necessary and left the woman sprawled out unconscious on the floor with blood gushing from the broken nose.

Indiana took half a step back and wiped her fingertips over the split in her eyebrow. Men passed money as bets were paid. They stepped out of her way when she walked back toward the bar. She grabbed a bottle of Whiskey and headed for the door.

::

Happy had watched the entire thing. He'd noticed her move around the bar, the goal oriented stare in her eyes as she pulled her earrings out- a sure sign of a fight to come. And good God, could she move. He'd expect as much from Rane Quinn's daughter, a strong woman who could defend herself. What he hadn't expected from the sweet girl was how aggressive she could be. She hadn't told the Crow Eater to take off her rings, hadn't even taken notice of them until they connected with her face and split her eyebrow open.

Retaliation had been swift when she crouched and swung her leg around tripping up the Crow Eater and sending her sprawling on her ass. The energy in the room had changed from a party mood to a mob mentality. Cheers and heckles. Her lithe body had stood mercilessly above the struggling form. She allowed the brunette to make it to her hands and knees before she booted the woman in the ribs and sent her sprawling again. "Get up." The snarl on her face made him think of tangled sheets and sweaty bodies.

As they threw punches one of the SAMTAC guys elbowed Happy. "Hundred on Kayla. I've seen her in a few fights. She holds her own."

He smirked, already feeling a little richer. "Make it two, you pussy."

Indiana knocked the wind out of the other woman and Happy nearly smiled as he watched her clench and unclench her hands. "Want to say it again?" Her deceptively delicate fingers tipped the other woman's jaw up. "I asked you a question." The ripe anger that flowed through Indiana aroused him. He couldn't help but think she'd be great in bed this riled up.

The brunette's choppy hair shook and Indiana nodded. "Good." The brutal uppercut knocked the woman out cold, blood poured from the broken nose. She stood there a moment, beautiful and vicious. She wiped her fingertips over the split in her eyebrow, smearing the blood rather than removing it.

Happy nudged the brother next to him. "Pay up." The brother cursed, but passed the two hundred over.

His eyes searched the disbursing crowd for her, and he saw her grab a bottle of Whiskey and head for the door. He started to follow, already thinking of pressing against her, seeing if that body was the same as he remembered. But then he saw Quinn and Tink standing together, and a second later, Quinn turn and walk out the door. It served as a fresh reminder to keep his distance. He grabbed his nearly forgotten beer and drained it, seized the red-haired Crow Eater who'd been hovering around and dragged her off to the nearest dark corner.


	39. To Love and Be Loved

Maureen's heart pounded as she jumped out of the car before Chibs even had it in park. "Trinity!" she shouted as she ran to meet her daughter. With her child safe in her arms she let out a relieved sob and tightened her grip.

She felt the tension in her daughter dissipate. "Mama." A sigh. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine." She rubbed her hands over Trinity's arms in a need to touch, to see and to know she was in one piece. "You?"

"I'm good."

"You should all get the hell out of here," Scrum said as his eyes scanned the streets.

Trinity pulled away from her mother and looked over at the man who'd been willing to help her, who'd believed that she could hold her own. "You don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do." He straightened slightly. "And you have to leave."

"What the hell are you two up to?" Chibs asked, his arms crossing over his chest.

Scrum shook his head. "SAMBEL business. Not yours. Get your family out of here."

Chibs eyed Trinity who looked torn between her mother and Scrum. "Trini, what are you two up to?"

He caught the slight shake of the head that Scrum shot at Trinity. He saw the young girl's shoulders drop for a second before they straightened and she lifted her chin defiantly. "Nothing."

"We don't have time for this." Fiona wrung her hands. "We need to go."

Trinity looked at the car and her eyes grew wide with alarm. "Where is Kerri?"

"With Juice. They're waiting for us," Fiona insisted. "We can't be late. Come now."

"Okay, okay," Trinity ran her hands through her hair and then turned to her mother. "Give me a minute, yeah?"

Marureen sucked in a breath and wondered just how close her daughter could have gotten to this SAMBEL member in only a couple of days. A gentle breeze came down the street and brought the scent of rain. It steadied her. "One minute. Not a second more."

"Got it." Trinity waited until the others were back in the car before she turned to Scrum. "If they find out it was you, they'll kill you."

He smiled at her. "Are you worried?"

She thought of denying it but instead glared at him. "Yes."

The smile fell off of his face and he huffed out a breath. "Well, don't."

"It doesn't work that way."

He shrugged. "The IRA needs to be taken down a notch. Apparently, you and I were the only ones with balls enough to do it." A laugh escaped him. "I'll have to tell Seamus about you blowing up that car. Tell him some wee lass has more brass than he."

Deep down, she knew she wouldn't be able to change his mind. Her stomach tightened and she ignored the way her eyes burned. She nodded, turned away and then pivoted back again. _Stupid, stupid,_ she scolded herself. She rushed against him, wrapped her arms around his waist and held him captive for a second. His hands were warm and heavy on her shoulders and when she pulled back she saw the confusion in his eyes. "Goodbye," she whispered and turned. This time, she didn't look back.

::

Quinn stepped outside, the wind whipped over the parking lot, rattling the chains of the swing set. It blew Indiana's hair back, long wisps made her look ethereal as she sat on the picnic table, her feet up on the bench. She drank straight from the bottle and let it dangle again from her fingers. She scuffed her shoe against the bench and drank again. He left the shadows and walked over to her. "Mind some company?"

She jerked her shoulder. "Free country."

Her anger still simmered, he could hear it in her voice, see it in her posture, and feel it crackling in the air. His gaze shifted to the bottle in her hands and with the knowledge that she turned into an honest drunk like he did, he pointed. "You shouldn't drink that."

She snorted. "Funny. Twenty one is the legal drinking age last time I checked."

"Indiana."

"Dad," she growled. "Stop." When she turned his breath caught at the sight of the blood on the side of her face. "If you've come to give me hell about the fight, then don't waste your breath. You're the reason I grew up like this, so don't give me some higher-than-thou speech. Some gash starts talking shit, I put her in her place. End of story."

Fair enough. The declaration set his teeth on edge, but he couldn't deny the truth of it. The woman had a hierarchy of their own and he had to respect that his daughter fell into that.

They stared out at the parking lot, and let a silence soothe both of them. Maybe he didn't want her fighting, mostly because he didn't want her hurt, but he had to accept that she fell into the same lifestyle as he did and that came with certain social protocols. He'd raised one tough woman and she hadn't taken too many hits in the fight. The blood bothered him but knew the superficial wound would heal quickly.

While he had come to check on her, he didn't worry too much about her physically so much as he worried about her emotional state. She kept drinking and he knew the effect it would have on her, so he waited a few minutes while the alcohol worked it's magic. "You punched like a girl in the beginning."

"Yeah, well, the bitch wasn't fighting back."

He studied her profile. "She was intoxicated and stood six inches shorter even with heels. You weren't ever going to give her a fair chance."

Her fingers ran over the lip of the bottle. "No, but I didn't want to look like a total bitch."

Quinn shook his head. "You got pretty vicious, Little Anarchist."

She jerked her shoulder. "I've had a bad week." She sucked in a breath. "She said some stuff, I kind of lost it. I don't know what's wrong with me." She guzzled from the bottle and set it down between her feet. "She was down and out and I had this horrible thought of just kicking her again anyway." Her hands covered her face. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

He put his arm over her shoulder and pulled her in. "What did she say to get you so riled up?"

A tremor of rage slithered through her. "She asked if it was my Old Man who just died. I walked in with Happy and she got ideas. Insinuated I was-" she cut herself off and shook her head. "Neither of us want to have that kind of conversation."

No, he didn't. He still thought of his daughter as eight years old with scraped knees and a peculiar fashion sense. Hard to believe she'd grown up, and she'd grown up well. Pride filled him every time he saw her. She handled her business, always had. "Well, her face will never be the same if it is any consolation."

She looked to her father. "Is it bad if I say yes?"

He smiled and shook his head. No matter what, he'd always be on Indiana's side. "Bitch had it coming."

She leaned against her father again and sighed.

::

Kerrianne ran her tongue over the roof of her mouth and grimaced. It felt like she'd ate a handful of sand. Her eyes felt heavy, her head foggy. Back aching, she struggled to sit up straight and arched it, feeling bliss as one of her vertebrae popped. Blinking a few times her vision cleared. The cargo planes sat on the runway as they were loaded. The sturdy brick building looked more like a warehouse than a private airport. She looked over and remembered leaning against Juice after eating a snack they'd grabbed on their way, and then she must have fallen to sleep.

Juice grinned. "Sleep well?"

"How long was I out for?" She asked while scooting off the crate to stand and stretch out properly. It felt good to get her muscles working again.

"Couple of hours," Juice admitted. His gun is out, sitting on his thigh, a hand resting on it. Prepared.

"Do you have a reason to be worried?" She asked pointing to the gun.

His smile showed his teeth. "Na, I'm always this paranoid."

With a shake of her head, she rejoined him on the crate. "It's getting dark."

"We'll be leaving soon," Juice replied almost awkwardly. "Nervous?"

"I really haven't had time to be nervous." Wringing her fingers she breathed through her nose trying to maintain calm. "It doesn't seem real," she muttered. "Doesn't seem real that the IRA are after us, chasing us from our home." A deep breath in, and a long six count out. "It won't be over," she turned then to look at him. "Even when we're in Charming, it won't be over. They'll be worse than ever. Mad because they didn't get what they want."

"And they won't get what they want." His hand slid over hers. A friendly enough touch but to her it felt so much more intimate. "Not ever. Not here. Not in Charming."

She nodded and tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. "It's nice to think that way, but after what happened to Cherry-" she paused and bit her lower lip trying to keep a lid on her emotions. "I think I just understand that no matter what our intentions are, no matter what we would do for someone we care for- it doesn't really matter, doesn't really change things. Wanting someone safe doesn't make it so. Mo tried to save us all, Trini and I escaped but-"

"I'm here if you want to talk about it." His thumbs brushed over her knuckles giving her a delightful thrill. "And I'm here if you don't want to."

It had been a long time since she had felt safe with someone outside of her immediate family- and she counted Maureen and Trinity in that, blood or not they were family. She rested her head against his shoulder. "She didn't deserve the end she got," Kerrianne whispered. "She's going to be buried, probably nameless, she wasn't exactly here legally. No family. No one to claim her. No one to say nice words or host a funeral." Tears burn her eyes. "It's a sad end."

His arm came around her shoulders and it steadied her, loaned her strength. "You'll grieve for her. You'll remember her. I think that's what's important, not some box or floral arrangements."

A memory snapped fresh to her memory, she got caught halfway between a sob and a laugh. "You know what one of our last conversations was about?" He shook his head, and this time she did laugh. "Condoms."

He laughed with her, remembering the brief time Cherry had lit up life in the clubhouse with Half-Sack. A fun woman with a wicked sense of humour. "Flavours?"

"Na, she had her eyes on, ah." She cleared her throat trying to sound natural while feeling her cheeks burn with embarrassment. It was one thing to discuss these kinds of things with the girls, it was another to discuss it with Juice.

He arched an eyebrow. HeH"Glow in the dark?"

She stared and tilted her head. "Why on Earth would anyone want their penis to glow in the dark?" They both burst into laughter, leaning into one another as they traded stories about the young woman who deserved to be remembered.

::

It felt wonderful to have her body pressed against his. The old pull-out couch they laid on couldn't be called comfortable by any stretch of the imagination, but beggars can't be choosers. She shifted, her leg rubbing against his and despite them both still being fully dressed it had his mind wandering.

"Thank you," Lyla whispered. "You didn't have to stay, but I'm glad you did."

His thumb ran over her shoulder, and he wished for her soft skin rather than the cardigan. He didn't have to stay, but he had. He could leave in the morning with a clear conscious that he'd protected the woman and children and even stayed while she was emotionally vulnerable. The thought alone left him with a great deal of doubt. Her fingers created invisible designs on his chest. Despite his task being completed, he didn't want to leave. For the first time in a long time, he wanted to stay with someone. The children certainly complicated things and he didn't care for complications. Besides, he didn't leave that simple nine-to-five 'apple pie' kind of life.

"Do you work in the morning?" she asked a little sleepily.

His shifts lately had been synchronized to hers so he could keep an eye on her around the clock. Now that the threat was over… "No."

The soft breath warmed his chest. "Me either." She tilted her head up even though she couldn't see him in the darkness. Part of her wished she could so that she could read his face and know if he wanted her as bad as she wanted him. A shamefully cowardly part thanked the darkness so she couldn't see if he wished to reject her.

She had tested by snuggling right up to him when they'd laid down. A simple comfort offered, he'd remain for the night; she was grateful. His hand ran over her shoulder and she felt secure with him, blessedly safe. He hadn't stopped her from running her fingertips around his chest even when she dipped low enough to brush against the top of his jeans. She felt her way, pressed her lips to his jaw and then found his lips, a heavenly homecoming. They shifted, welcoming of one another. Greedy kisses, legs tangling, hearts pounding.

The creak of a door had them shifting apart quickly and Lyla sat up to stare into the darkness over the back of the couch. "It's probably Piper," she whispered and flicked on the light before throwing her legs over the side of the bed. She looked down the hall and spotted her son. "Everything okay?"

"I have to pee."

She smiled. "Okay, go." She waited until her son had shut the door behind him before she walked back to the couch. Nervousness bubbled up inside as she stared down at him. Tattoos, long hair, lean muscle and good God it had been a while since she'd interested in a man, much less with one. Most would consider this odd for a woman once in the porn industry and now booked appointments for escorts. Playing it smart had always been difficult, but she tried her hardest. Rare one-night stands, never going home with someone she worked with- she tried. Sometimes, when money got tight her rules went out the window, her kid had to eat after all. She could suffer a little if it meant keeping Piper in clean clothes and with food in his belly. Harder now with Kenny and Ellie- even with the job at Diosa.

He smiled and she realized she'd been staring. "You okay?"

"Fine," she replied quickly and heard the door open again. She peered down the hallway and made sure Piper went back into his room and shut the door behind himself. With a little sigh escaping, she returned to the pull-out and laid back down.

Her desire warred with a need for something steady, something permanent. She doubted very much that he wanted to stick around, had any desire to play a father figure for those three children. If she only got this one night, she wanted to take full advantage of it- but she didn't want to regret it in the morning. They did work together after all, and more, she felt something for him, something that deserved more than a quick ride.

He laughed, a low and happy sound as he brushed his thumb against the little wrinkle forming between her brows. "You're going to have steam coming out your ears if you think any harder."

She glared, being the target of 'dumb blonde' jokes for years, she'd grown accustom to going on the defensive. Rebuttal on her tongue died as his thumb then brushed over her lips.

"I like the way you taste." The rumble of his words shot through her and left her tingling.

Intelligent thought abandoned her when she needed it most. She locked lips with him once again and found herself on her back a moment later, his leg pressing against her core and she nearly cried out with delight. Fumbling hands clawed at his belt in desperation, his hands caught her by the wrists as his mouth brushed against her cheek. "Not tonight."

An embarrassing groan of frustration left her lips and he smiled.

"Maybe tomorrow, or the day after," he said suggesting the permanence she craved. He laid back down and pulled her back against him. "We should start fixing up your place tomorrow."

She frowned even thinking of the little house she still had so many mortgage payments left on that Piper would likely be moved out on his own before she got it paid off. "I don't know when the insurance money will come in."

"Got anyone who can watch the kids tomorrow? The place is full of broken glass."

It warmed her, him thinking of the children's wellbeing. "As much as it pains me, I'll ask Gemma. If she can't, I'm sure she can find someone who will." And there, in the safety of his arms while talking about home improvements she slowly fell to sleep.

::

Indiana stayed outside for a few minutes longer than her father had. She'd wanted a moment of silence before going in and facing the noise of the crowd. Sanctuary had once held such crowds and she'd loved it, familiar faces, half hugs, jokes and laughter. This clubhouse lacked the familiarity, and she resented those inside who could still have a good time while Mac's ashes sat in one of the dorm rooms.

Foolish, she had to admit. Some grieved, others hadn't known, some just didn't care and it should be fine. She didn't know others who had died, she didn't grieve, didn't weigh herself down with the dead she hadn't known. Understanding didn't make her feel better. A few more days and his memory would be blown over by more pressing matters. Guilt struck out like the hook that had sliced open her brow, for she wanted it to blow over, she wanted to be able to move on. No good would ever come of tethering herself to a memory and if she wanted to come out whole she had to find a way to let go.

For now, Diosa would keep her mind as busy as it could. She didn't doubt that thoughts of Mac would slip in. Forgetting him would never happen, she just needed to find a way to function until the bleeding stopped.

Fingertips skimmed along the lip of the bottle. Getting drunk wouldn't help. With the cap on, she felt a little more in control. Her body tingled with the sprit, her mind dulled, her lips loosened. While getting drunk had helped dull the pain and rage she'd felt, the downside of being unable to speak anything but truth outweighed the good. Honesty wasn't an admirable trait in a room full of law breakers.

"Sleep it off," she told herself as she stood unsteadily. While it felt like she walked in a straight line, she tipped just slightly this way and that as she moved.

Once inside, the scent of tobacco warred with the scent of marijuana, a touch of alcohol and a heady dose of perfume had become the signature scent of the SAMCRO clubhouse. She didn't look for her parents, or any familiar faces. She had a goal; get to the room before she said or did anything she'd regret in the morning.

The party, still in full swing made it difficult to get to the hallway, but once on the other side of a large crowd of men from Tacoma there were only a few lingering at a back table. A couple, she suspected as the two necked in one of the darkest sections of the bar. Jealousy stung, to love and be loved, who wouldn't want it- especially someone who'd just lost it.

She forced her eyes away and tripped over her own two feet. Her hip slammed against a table before her hands did, catching herself before she could fall. A curse slipped through clenched teeth. Righting herself, her eyes caught movement in the corner and her stomach churned, her heart sunk.

That little red-head she'd noticed earlier was on her knees, Happy's hands clenched in her hair the light reflecting off of his rings. His eyes met hers. The growl escaped his lips and even while he emptied himself into one woman, he stared at her. The woman looked up as he tucked himself back into his jeans, maybe looking for a compliment. Happy's eyes though were still on Indiana and the red-head turned to see what he stared at.

"Oh my!" she exclaimed and smiled a little shyly. "Didn't know anyone was watching."

"I doubt it would have changed anything if you did," Indiana said and cursed her decision to drink.

In her hurry to turn toward the hallway, she stumbled and reached out to grab a chair to steady herself and then continued on into the hall, her hand skimming against the wall. Despite how aggravatingly dismayed she felt what she'd just witnessed, she felt even worse when she stopped at her room, Mac's room, and stared at the door.

The man who she loved would never love her, and the one who had loved her with his entire heart, she couldn't find the right love for. "I am a fucking disaster," she muttered as her hand wrapped around the doorknob. Never before in her life had she had such difficulty entering a room. Once inside, she turned on the light and looked at the small room. She needed to pack Mac's belongings, figure out what to do with them. Eventually, she needed to return to their rental in Red Willow and do the same. Tears came and she ran her fingers over the box that held his ashes. Unable to bear the weight, she kicked off her shoes, laid fully dressed on the bed and wished for sleep.

::

Kerrianne woke when Juice shook her gently. "They're here."

Bolting upright, she stared as her family got out of the car. "Trini!" She shouted and jumped off the crate. Overwhelmed by the sense of relief, tears swam to her eyes. "Oh thank God." She hugged Trinity tightly and the blonde returned the gesture. The two rocked around as they held each other, giddy with knowledge that everyone would be leaving together.

Knowing what an absolute nightmare the past few days had been for everyone involved, Trinity sighed. "Sorry I ran off." She knew it would hurt Kerrianne but she hadn't been able to just leave her mother behind, or trust that someone else would do everything they could to get her back safely.

"I get it, it's okay," Kerrianne insisted. Over Trinity's shoulder, she saw her father clasp a hand on Juice's shoulder and give him a smile. "I'm just glad you're back!"

"I'm going to go talk to our contact," Chibs announced. "Should be ready to board soon." His eyes cut to Juice. "Stay with them."

"I will," Juice agreed.

Maureen stepped up beside Fiona and put an arm around her waist. "Well, glad that little adventure is done."

Fiona in turn put her arm around Maureen's waist, the two women standing together as a team, one they'd been for years. "On to the next. I doubt the IRA is going to forgive the Sons for this."

"Aye, they'll be pissed." Maureen smiled as she watched Trinity and Kerrianne continue to cling to one another. "Charming."

"Charming," Fiona repeated like the word left a foul taste in her mouth. "I imagine Gemma won't be too pleased to see either of us."

Maureen snorted. "Me more than you. I'm the one who was screwing her husband, gave birth to his child. Only reason Gemma doesn't like you is because you don't take any shit and Filip listens to you. I think it worries her that any of the men might not follow script."

Fiona shrugged as she watched Trinity now hug Juice and when she pulled away, he flashed her his big happy grin. More, she watched the way Kerrianne stuck close to Juice's side, as if they were a unit, a partnership of some kind.

Chibs walked back over and put a hand on each Fiona and Maureen's shoulders. "They're ready for us. Are you all ready to go?"

Moment of truth. Kerrianne bit her bottom lip as the emotions surged. The relief that Trinity had returned faded. Now, she had to leave her native Ireland, leave behind her belongings, her home, her school, her friends to go off to America, off to the unknown. Trinity had already started toward her mother, apparently ready for a fresh start. Kerrianne shifted and looked over at Juice who was waiting, watching her.

"How bad is take off?" she asked in a little voice.

"I kind of like it," he replied, hoping to ease her fear. "It's like one of those rides at Fun Town."

"Okay, big ride, new adventure," Kerrianne forced a smile. "Let's go."


	40. Dormant Volcanoes

Stuck between a dream and wakefulness, Indiana thrashed against the sheets that kept her captive. She sat up as the fog lifted, breathed heavily through the panic and tried to stare through the darkness. A curse left her lips, hands ran over her face and she kicked her left leg free of the sheet.

Silence. Beautiful silence. The music had finally been shut off. She groaned as she stood, stretched out her full height. Her hair clung to the sweat on the back of her neck even as her entire body felt chilled right to the bone. Her mouth felt like she'd eaten sand and she decided she'd get a glass of water first, then get in the shower. She made her way through the dark, not bothering with a light considering the minimalist room that Mac had kept fairly clean.

The lights were still on in the hallway. She avoided the worst of the gunk on the floor and wished she'd though about putting her shoes back on before leaving the room. Her nose wrinkled and she had the overpowering desire to get her hands on a mop. Someone needed to clean this place up!

Lights were on in all open areas of the clubhouse, the bar, the row of lights over the pool table, the kitchen. The cherry burned at the end of the cigarette inside and Indiana stood a little straighter. Mentally cursing, she wished she'd just stayed in her room. She ignored Happy who sat at the little two person table in the kitchen, and went straight for the refrigerator.

"You're up early."

"Look who's talking. Or maybe you just didn't go to bed yet." It sounded catty, even to her own ears. She felt her cheeks burn and was glad she had her back turned to him.

"We got a problem, Hellcat?"

She grabbed the bottle of water, uncapped it and took a long, refreshing drink. "No, no problem." The lie came off her tongue but if felt more like she was poking the coals of her simmering anger. Despite the alcohol she'd consumed hours ago, she had the perfect recollection of Happy getting a blow job in the corner. She shouldn't be so worked up, she had no claim over him, and she was still mourning Mac. Emotions swirled, creating a destructive storm. Her hand trembled and she wished for strength-just enough to get out of the room.

His breath brushed against her neck and she slammed the fridge door. "Seems like we have a problem."

The truth burned on her tongue, desperate for escape. Sober enough to have a clear mind, she took another cool drink, the back of her skull hit his shoulder and she quickly straightened. Her body trembled, lies, truths, desires and fears swirled around leaving her nerves raw and vulnerable.

"Indiana?"

"What do you want?" she hissed, finally whirling around to face him. "I said there is no problem, so what is it that you want from me?" He stared at her, dumbfounded, and she took that moment to escape.

::

Happy groaned when Indiana disappeared and ran his hand over his face. She'd been in a bitch and somehow he still felt like the bad guy by the end of it. He didn't know why he'd pushed, maybe because he'd witnessed a little spark of her old self. She had an admirable temper when she worked it up to full steam. It rarely lasted long, but it did look like she'd carried around a lot of anger for the past seven years, all stockpiled just for him. Great.

_'What is it that you want from me?'_

The question didn't sit well from him. Neither did the answers that came to mind. He should have just gone to bed instead of worry chain-smoking his way through half a pack. He had plenty on his mind; his mother, the stack of bills, the Diosa problem, Toric. Of course, Indiana presented another problem. God help him, he wanted her. Wanted her in ways he promised himself he wouldn't. She, the daughter of a friend, a girl he'd watched grow into a woman. The wrongness stuck with him. Maybe if she wasn't Quinn's kid, maybe if she wasn't so fucking sweet, maybe if he didn't want her in a way that could give her so much power over him- maybe then he would just take her, pin her to the bed and own her.

He wouldn't. He wouldn't just use her like one of the Crow Eaters. Not again. Never again would he treat her so carelessly. He couldn't give her what she'd want, nor what she'd need. She'd want permanence, stability, and while she had Nomad in her blood, she'd want roots. He couldn't give her those things. Wouldn't.

Why should he give up new pussy every day of the week, even if he were to entertain the idea of getting back into her pants? Not that it was up for consideration. And it isn't.

"Fuck me," he muttered, angered by his thoughts. He had more pressing matters. Indiana Quinn was temporary. Once Diosa worked out, she'd be on her way back to Red Willow. _To pack up the house she'd shared with Mac._ The thought slipped in and he rubbed his temples in attempt to ward off the growing pressure in his head.

::

Jax opened his eyes to the beautiful sight of his wife holding their son. He figured the little boy had been fed and fell back to sleep in his mother's arms. "Pretty picture," he whispered, not wanting to wake Thomas.

Tara turned and flashed a smile his way. "I thought he'd wake you, but you were out like the dead."

"I figured you would be too," he replied as he rolled to his back and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Sorry it was such a long night."

She shrugged, resigned to a life in within the club's confines. "I'm just glad you agreed to take us home after it was all over. Our own bed, all the boys' stuff, it makes everything much more comfortable." She bit down on her bottom lip. "I hate lockdowns, this one was pretty crowded. The party after would have been pretty hard to keep the boys sleeping through."

Jax sat up with his back against the headboard, he put one arm over his wife's shoulders, and the other brushed over Thomas's head. "Anything for family."

She rested her head against his shoulder and watched as Abel ambled into the room with a big grin. "Dad, you up?"

"Yeah, I'm awake."

"Cool." Abel climbed up onto the bed and crawled over to join the family. He squeezed in and sat on his father's lap. "Can we play trucks?"

Since he didn't have any immediate business with the club, Jax smiled. "Sure."

He had the pleasure of watching Abel's eyes light up with delight. "Really?"

"Yeah, go get them out. I'll meet you in the living room." He laughed, Abel already dashing out of the room. He turned, kissed Tara and Thomas in turn. "I love you."

"I love you too," she replied softly. "Now go to Abel before he has every toy truck he's ever gotten out. Both Gemma and Wayne spoil him, buying him new _Hot Wheels_ every time either watches him."

Jax smiled, kissed her once again before he headed off to play with his son.

::

Ally Lowen had accomplished absolutely nothing during the lockdown. She'd stayed in the clubhouse overnight, not that she really wanted to party or anything but by the time the threat had been lifted, the drinks had started to flow and she figured she wouldn't have much security. She had no desire to be an easy target for Toric. Besides, she'd had a pleasant conversation with Bobby, indulged in a couple drinks, and even won a game of pool against one of the Tacoma guys. The change in pace had been nice. A break from work, from stress, but now it was time to get back to work.

The clubhouse post-party was a fucking disaster. Beer bottles littered tables, shot glasses were still lined on the bar along with a few tumblers. Ashtrays were filled to capacity. Her shoes stuck to something on the floor and she resolved not to look, she really didn't care to identify any floor substances. She figured she probably didn't look much better after sleeping on the couch, sitting up but her top half draped over the arm. It would take one hell of a massage to work out the kinks. The thought of Tom Rosen's hands on her made her rub the bridge of her nose and wonder if she was still a little drunk.

She looked around the immediate area and found Phil asleep in a chair, his head on the table in front of him. She kicked his shin; he let out a grumble that might have been a 'fuck off.' With hands planted on her hips, she gave him another little kick. "Get up. Lockdown has been lifted. I have work to do." Really, she just wanted a shower, clean clothes and hot breakfast. "Come on, I haven't got all day."

Phil lifted his head, stared at her and cursed again. "Yeah, yeah okay."

"Good. I'll be out front. You've got five minutes," she ordered before turning on her heel. The cool air outside helped to clear her head. As her mind started to work, she realized just how she had spoken to a fully patched member. "Shit." She scrubbed her hands over her face in hopes that she would feel more alert. She didn't really think Phil would tell Jax, nor did she think he'd be particularly angry with her and try to put her in her place.

She just wanted this Toric shit to be over. She hated to have a guard with her at all times, but understood the necessity of it. After all, she had no desire to wind up some blurb in the local paper _'Local Biker Gang's Attorney Winds Up Murdered- No One Is Surprised.'_ Yeah, no thanks.

"Ready?" Phil asked walking out, still looking half asleep.

"Yeah. And sorry about the wake-up call."

He shrugged and ambled off toward his bike. She figured herself lucky that he took everything in stride. Of course, her luck wouldn't stick.

::

Rane Quinn put the last of the boxes in the back of Indiana's car. He'd kept a close eye on her all morning. The dark circles forming under her eyes worried him but he couldn't say he hadn't been expecting a few sleepless nights from her. She had a butterfly stitch just over her eyebrow to aid the healing process of the cut. He put an arm over her shoulder and squeezed. "You okay?"

"I'll manage," she replied. "I'm going to head out. I want some clean clothes."

"Do you have your gun?"

"Yeah."

He eyed her. "Is it loaded?"

She hadn't reloaded, but knew there were still another four bullets. "Yeah."

With a nod he pulled away. "Drive safe, and keep that gun on you at all times."

"I'll be fine, Dad," Indiana insisted.

He watched her drive away, and despite her insistence, worried anyway.

::

Gemma decided to let Nero sleep, she pulled her shirt, jeans and boots back on, grabbed her pack of cigarettes and her watch before she left the room at the end of the hall. Pulling her watch on, she realized it was after noon, her stomach growled but she ignored it in favour of her first cigarette of the day. With coffee on her mind, she headed toward the kitchen. At the edge of the hallway she stared in shock at the state of the clubhouse. Slowly, a smile crept upon her face.

Crow Eaters were hard at work cleaning up the place and Tink had her hands on her hips while she looked up at one of the taller Crow Eaters. "Jesus, have you never held a mop? It's not a fucking cock!" Gemma bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Tink adjusted the Crow Eater's grip moving her hands further apart. "Now put your back into it. I want this place cleaned up."

"This isn't our job," one of the Crow Eaters bitched.

"No, evidently spreading your legs is your job." Tink planted her hands on her hips. "How about you show you can be useful for something other than your used up gash, maybe then one of these men would actually keep you around."

One of the women looked ready to throw an absolute fit and Gemma stepped into the room. "She's right, Tiffany," she spoke directly to the familiar Crow Eater. With a little grin, she pointed. "And you missed a spot." She turned then to Tink as the Crow Eaters grudgingly returned to work. "How do you take your coffee?"

Tink grinned. "Like my men; tall, strong and hot."

And in that moment, Gemma thought, maybe Quinn's Old Lady wasn't so bad.

::

Phil stayed outside with his bike, smoking a cigarette. Ally unlocked her front door and walked in. Home. She went directly for the shower, enjoyed water so hot it nearly scalded her skin. Indulging herself, she pampered her skin with silky moisturizers, spritzed on her most expensive and favourite perfume, applied her makeup and walked out wrapped up in a towel.

In her room, she opened her closet and went over the rack twice before settling on a little black dress that always made her feel confident and sexy. She removed the towel from her still damp hair, and tossed it in the hamper. Tousled natural waves were left to dry on their own. She could fix her hair later. Dressed and feeling good, she went for the second order of business. Food. While conscious of her scale, she decided it was the kind of morning for a full breakfast; bacon, eggs, a cup of fruit, toast slathered in butter. Fuck the scale. As long as her LBD fit, she could get away with it. For today at least, by noon she'd likely regret the decision and be bargaining with herself that she'd pull her treadmill out of the closet.

Food slipped from her mind when she walked into the kitchen to find a large brown envelope on the counter. Pausing only to take a cursory look around, she hurried to the envelope and tore it open. Her mouth dropped open. The photograph showed Judge Diane Loretto leaving the resteraunt where they had met up. "Oh my God." She set the picture down and raced down the hall to where she had left her purse and pulled out her phone. Even as she shifted through the contact list, she opened the door. "Phil!" She shrieked. "Get in here!"

The big man moved surprisingly fast and followed her into the house. Ally's hands trembled as she waited as the phone rang and rang until it went to voicemail. "What's going on?" he asked, gun in hand.

"Put that away. The threat isn't here," Ally hung up and tried again. She pushed the photo toward him. "Someone broke into my house and left this for me." _Come on, Diane, pick up!_ "One guess as to whom."

"Toric."

Her heart raced in her chest and she struggled to keep in control. "Call Jax. She's not answering."

::

Jax wouldn't be able to answer Phil's first call, as he was already on the phone. His pulse skipped and instead of the relief he'd expected to feel, a sense of dread settled upon his heart.

Tara saw the change in her husband and turned to Abel. "Honey, please go play in your room for a few minutes. I have to talk to your dad. Be careful not to wake Tommy, okay?"

"'Kay, Mom." Abel got up and walked off to his room.

She returned her attention to her husband and laid a hand on his knee when he hung up the phone. "Who was that?"

"Stockton prison," he rasped. After clearing his throat, he laid his hand on top of hers. "Clay was killed this morning."

Relief hit her system. Clay Morrow, one dead motherfucker. Thank God. She looked down at the scars that still marred her hand and wrist because of him. He may have been Jax's step-father, but she had nothing left but hatred for the man. "Good."

He nodded, Jax too felt relief on that one. One less problem to worry about. "Otto was also killed this morning."

Her eyes widened. "Clay and Otto? In the same morning?"

He rubbed his temple with his free hand. "And Lenny."

"Lenny?"

"Yeah," Jax cursed. "Lenny Janowitz. He was Sargent at Arms under my dad. He was one of the first nine." Thinking on it, he sighed. "By the sounds of it, the last of the first nine."

"Three SOA members murdered in Stockton in one morning," her skin felt cold, and what relief she had felt was long gone. "Sounds like one hell of a message."

Jax opened his mouth with a reply on his tongue but his phone went off. He quickly answered and put the phone to his ear only to hear more bad news. "Is Lowen okay?" Tara squeezed his hand and waited. She had a horrible feeling that the day would only get worse.

"No," he said into the phone. "Take her to the clubhouse. Call the rest of the guys. Church. Now." He hung up and shifted forward, touching his forehead to Tara's. "That was Phil. Lowen's place was broken into. She had a meeting with a judge about Toric, now there is a picture of that judge left in her place. Judge isn't answering phone calls."

"Four people in one day," she whispered fearfully.

"He'd have arranged for the three in prison, but I have no doubt he was the one pulling the strings. We need to go check on the judge." He threaded his hands through her short hair. "I hate to do this to you Tara, but I need to know you and the boys are safe. Toric came and visited you after his sister was murdered. Until he's in the ground, I need to know you're safe at the clubhouse."

As much as Tara hated lockdowns, she didn't want to come close to that monster Toric and she sure as the sky is blue wouldn't risk her kids. "Okay, okay," she agreed as she shifted and wrap her arms around him.

::

"Who knew those Crow Eaters could do such good work?" Gemma wondered out-loud as she looked around the bar.

"They specialize in the spit and polish," Tink replied causing Gemma to crack up.

They took their coffee mugs to the bar and sat around chatting; men, the weather, the Crow Eaters, raising children, being women in the life. The conversation halted as Gemma's cell rang, she apologized as she took it out but Tink waved it off, understanding completely.

The words over the line left Gemma cold, and surprising her, tears welled up. "Yes. Thank you," she managed to croak out and found Tink's worried eyes on her.

The door opened and Rane stepped in with a half-smoked cigarette, noticed Gemma's tears, Tink's worried expression, and wished he'd stayed the fuck outside. "What happened?"

"Clay is dead." And with that, she hurried from the room before bursting into tears.

::

Lyla walked into the clubhouse with Primo and three children in tow. The scent of lemon cleaner hit her senses and she stared in awe. The place was not just clean, but the floors gleamed. "Holy sh-oe sale!"

Primo grinned. "Nice save."

She shot him a smile, looked around but didn't see Gemma. The bar only had Quinn and who Lyla assumed was his Old Lady. "Excuse me, have either of you seen Gemma?"

"She just got some bad news," Tink replied. "She's in the back somewhere."

"I'll go check on her," she said to no one in particular. Checking rooms as she went, she found Gemma at the very back. "Hey."

Gemma had calmed herself and had no intention of letting another tear fall for that malicious bastard. "Lyla," she replied cordially.

"The woman out front said you got some bad news, are you okay?"

"Clay's dead," she said and liked how uncaring she sounded. Good. As it should be.

Lyla came to sit by her side and even put an arm around her. "I'm sorry for you. I ain't sorry he's dead, I heard things, saw things. I know what he did to you. To Tara. I'm sorry it hurts you-"

"It doesn't."

"It does," Lyla persisted. "You spend that much of your life, open yourself to someone that much and they betray you and it fucking hurts. You're allowed to be hurt about this Gemma. He deserved what he got but it doesn't mean that you didn't love him."

Gemma considered the younger woman's words, and nodded. "I'm alright."

Although Lyla didn't particularly believe that statement, she nodded. "I know this is bad timing, but would you be able to watch the kids today?" She figured the distraction would do the other woman well. "I want to go check out the damage to my house."

"Well that explains the paint splattered t-shirt, ripped up jeans and work boots," Gemma replied giving the other woman a look over. "Yeah, sure, I'll keep an eye on the little ones."

"Thank you."

Gemma really thought she should be the one saying that, but instead, she just nodded.

::

Indiana had spent hours going over the papers from Diosa, over and over again. She'd called Dax; he'd cursed himself blue about the advanced security systems of the bank and sprouted code like she understood it. She'd heard the grief in his voice, just as she heard the alcohol that slurred his words. Pushing wouldn't get anywhere, but Diosa was running out of time.

Mason had been murdered. Indiana firmly believed there had to be a reason. Maybe he had discovered who was taking the money. Maybe he was part of it and had fucked up or got cold feet. She didn't believe his death during this time was a coincidence. If this was the case, maybe the answers laid with one of the other accountants, at the very least, maybe they were also targets. Regardless, she couldn't just sit there and do nothing. She'd been asked to fix this mess, she'd dragged Mac to this place and he'd died here and failure simply wasn't an option. She looked at the box of ashes that sat on the coffee table, her stomach churning.

She couldn't be over eager, the accountants usually went home for the day by four, and while she was a couple hours off from that she grabbed her bag and headed for the door. A beautiful day for a drive, give her time to clear her mind and come up with a solid plan.

::

Happy sat in Church. The shocked silence settled over the table. The men looked to one another only to see mirrored expressions of surprise. Clay Morrow, Otto Delaney, and Lenny 'The Pimp' Janowitz, all murdered in prison on the same day.

"Toric," Happy growled.

"That's what I think," Jax replied. His eyes turned to the empty VP seat. "Chibs should be back early this evening. Tig, I want you to meet him at the airstrip, get them home safe and catch him out without freaking out his family. Any volunteers from Tacoma, I don't want anyone riding alone." Two men from Tacoma raised their hands and Jax nodded and considered the precious cargo, Chibs the VP, his family, Maureen Ashby and his very own half-sister, Trinity. "Alright, Angus, I also want you with them. Big family, keep them safe."

Tig nodded, still stuck in that dazed fog. He'd been SAA for Clay for years, and now the man was dead. Hate for the man warred with those years of loyalty and friendship that didn't just disappear.

"Bobby, Rat, I want you two to join Phil with Lowen." Jax pointed at Bobby. "You're in charge. I want her kept safe."

Having always been fond of the lawyer who'd kept his ass out of prison on numerous occasions, Bobby nodded. "You got it."

"V-Lin, you and a few more Tacoma guys stay here. Tara's here with my kids. Gemma's here and she's watching Lyla's brood- I want them fucking protected. We've got another Old Lady," he nodded in Quinn's direction, "And some Crow Eaters around. Toric's got sights on Tara, this isn't some babysitting gig. He will kill her if he gets the chance." The guys nodded solemnly. Jax wished he could stay there himself, but knew as President he had to be out in force. "Quinn, Hap, you're with me. We're going to check on that judge." Both men nodded.

"Alright, you all know what to do," he banged the gavel and people started to funnel out.

Quinn immediately grabbed his phone from the box on the pool table and called his daughter, he got her voicemail. "Shit."

Emily heard him and turned. "Everything okay?"

"Indie isn't answering."

"I texted her a little while ago, she said she was going to Diosa to get some work done. Try calling Nero, sometimes she turns off her phone when she's working."

Quinn nodded and asked Jax for the number. "Hey, it's Rane Quinn, my kid there?" The tension left his shoulders when Nero replied that he'd seen her come in only a few minute earlier. "Thanks, can you tell her to call me before she leaves?" Nero agreed and Quinn hung up.

"Ready to roll out?" Jax asked.

"Let's go."


	41. All Business

Chibs had kept a close eye on everyone during the long flight from Belfast to San Jose. While Fiona and Maureen had taken the flight as an uncomfortable but necessary evil, Kerrianne and Trinity had a wonderment about them. Trinity had declared loudly upon take-off that she'd decided she didn't like planes one bit. Kerrianne on the other hand had a slow smile that took over her face, she'd loved take-off. Eight hours into the flight however, the novelty had worn off and everyone took turns standing, stretching out their back, walking in tight circles in the little space they had at the back of the cargo plane, complaining, and wondering how long it would be until landing.

Now, finally, the journey neared completion and the plane nosed down just a touch. "Almost there," Juice announced as the plane tipped down yet again before evening out.

"Thank God," Fiona muttered. Her stomach growled loudly. They'd brought a couple snacks on board with them, but she'd kill for a full meal, a tall glass of water, and a solid eight hours of sleep.

Trinity, who's stayed pretty much silent since take off, leaned into her mother. "Now what? We've been on the run, we've finally gotten out of Ireland, now what do we do?"

Maureen shared her daughter's worries but forced a smile. "Don't you worry now child, I'll take care of it."

"Ma, I'm twenty-two," Trinity reminded her.

"I know, I was in labour with you for the same amount of hours," Maureen replied dryly.

"I'm an adult too. We're here illegally, we've left behind our home and our shop," Trinity's throat tightened and she found she could no longer speak.

"Don't worry on it right now. After a good rest, we can come up with a plan," Fiona assured the other women and patted Maureen's hand. They'd been each others sanity through a great many rough years. "You two can stay with us for a while, until we figure it all out," she turned to her husband, "Right, Filip?"

"Of course," he replied. He even managed a tight smile. He tried to think of the state of his house. A little thing, two bedrooms (one of which could hardly be called more than a closet), one crammed bathroom, minimalist in décor, but at least he'd kept it clean. He didn't even have so much as a bed in the second bedroom and thus had no idea where he'd put Kerrianne, Maureen, and Trinity. His wife, however, would be in his bed-naked and moaning- by the end of the night regardless of who stayed with them.

"Where the hell are you going to put everyone?" Juice asked out-loud what Chibs had been considering himself.

"We can just get a hotel," Maureen insisted. Bad enough to drop in unannounced, worse to drop in when there were no accommodations. She wished to take the stress out on all sides, and she did have a little cash she'd been able to pull from her account and have exchanged before they caught the plane.

"Nonsense," Chibs insisted. "The clubhouse has a couple of cots that we can bring over," he rubbed his goatee as he considered it. Across from him Juice simply raised a disbelieving eyebrow. Chibs shrugged in response. Sure, those cots likely had stains that would show up under a black light, but where could he get a bed in such short notice. He had no doubt his wife would be doing some serious shopping tomorrow, but for tonight, when everyone was jet-legged and weary, they needed to just lay down and rest.

Juice rolled his eyes. "I actually have a second bed. You two can stay with me."

Trinity shot him a grin. "Thanks, Juice."

The wheels touched down just as they finalized resting places, the plane slowed and then stopped completely. The California citizens smiled, glad to be back on home turf, eager to reunite with their brothers, and sleep in familiar beds. The large back door opened for the cargo but they all climbed off with what little they had. Chibs carried his wife's emergency duffle-bag, Kerrianne had a recently purchased backpack that had a pair of her old clothes and candy wrappers, Trinity had a small sling purse, and Juice had a backpack of his own that carried extra clothes and a box of bullets.

"Oh fuck yes," Juice groaned as he set both feet down on the tarmac and tipped his head skyward. The sun warmed the air, heated the blacktop which in turn roasted his skin. For the first time since he left California, he felt the chill leave his bones.

The heat hit Kerrianne in a sudden wave and momentarily robbed her of breath. Her dark eyes darted around taking in the airport with the big shipping trucks at the side, the far off chain link fence that was lined with trees. Still the same world. She looked over her shoulder at her mother and father who stepped down, hand in hand.

Maureen and Trinity stood close together and stuck to the pack as Chibs, his fingers still interlocked with his wife's, led the way. They walked through the small airport and spotted Tig, Angus, and a couple of Tacoma brothers.

"It's about time you fuckers got here!" Tig laughed cheerfully and literally welcomed them back with open arms. "I've missed your ugly face," he hugged Chibs first.

"Never thought I'd see the day you'd be a sight for sore eyes," Chibs jested in turn.

Tig turned to Juice. "You didn't dope a Doberman again, did you?"

The girls all turned to Juice who burst out laughing. "Not this time, Brother."

The two men hugged it out and Chibs couldn't stop smiling. His family was here, with him, a new home, a new stage in their life. Not only that, but he'd started to heal his friendship with Juice, and from that, the man himself seemed to be mending. The bonds of brotherhood in this charter needed fixing and this show of affection between two not-so-close brothers showed that it had started. Slowly, surely, they were patching up the reaper's bloody wounds.

"Fiona," Tig said her name rather lewdly and Chibs shot him a warning look. "Beautiful as ever."

"Wish I could say the same for you," she replied in her most cheerful voice which had them all cracking up. She then pat his cheek. "Been a long while. Good to see you, Tig."

His blue eyes turned to who he knew had to be Maureen Ashby and her daughter, Jax's half-sister, Trinity. He bent slightly and looked Trinity right in the eyes, she backed up half a step and her blue eyes narrowed at him. "What's it?"

"I see the resemblance," Tig replied. And he did. Trinity and Jax. Her and JT. It was in the eyes. "Your brother sent me to retrieve, protect, and deliver you all safely to Charming."

"How Charming," Maureen replied with a roll of her eyes.

"Ah, see, everyone has to mock the town name at least once," Tig grinned. "It can't be resisted."

"It's been a long flight," Chibs broke the conversation. "Dinner first. Is there somewhere to eat around here?"

"Didn't see much on the way in," Tig admitted and shrugged.

"I'll find something," Angus told them while pulling out his smartphone. While he had a pre-paid for club business but he also had a minor addiction to Angry Birds (which he blamed Emily for because she continued to beat his high score), and it came in handy for situations like this. "Are burgers and fries good with everyone? There's a diner about five miles north."

"Sounds perfect," Kerrianne said dreamily while her stomach echoed its approval.

"Oh yeah," Tig snapped to attention and ran through a quick set of introductions. "The two guys from Tacoma are Lorca and Peanut, the later I've been harassing at every pit-stop since we left, so he's in a mood."

Chibs groaned and narrowed his dark eyes at Tig. "Did you have to harass him then?"

"His name _is_ Peanut," Angus cut in with a wide smile that flashed his teeth. "You know," he held his thumb and forefinger only a centimetre apart. "Peanut." Both he and Tig cracked up laughing yet again.

"I get it, but now we have two pissed off men since Lorca is clearly siding with his charter brother," Chibs reasoned. Was it too much to ask for a nice peaceful ride home? Apparently.

Tig and Angus exchanged a glance and then both shrugged. "He just needs to grow a pair and get over it," Angus replied and both men cracked up again.

Chibs put a hand on each of their shoulders and turned them around. "Let's just get going, alright?"

::

Bobby and Ratboy pulled their motorcycles up beside Phil's in Lowen's driveway. This blocked in the two cars there. Bobby pulled off his helmet and studied the gleaming black BMW M3. Not Lowen's, but familiar.

Ratboy stared at it as well. "Whose car?"

"I think its Rosen's," Bobby replied after some deliberation. He hated BMW's. Okay, maybe not the car, but the drivers for sure. They were pretty much all self-entitled pricks on the road. Too much money, in his opinion. He hated drivers who couldn't figure out their blinkers, or who talked on their phone, usually ignoring the other traffic around them. Being on a motorcycle made things a little more dangerous, no cage to protect you. BMW goes into your vehicle, it's hitting your leg and shoulder first. Fuck that. He had the sudden urge to key the car, but ignored it. "Come on, let's get in there."

Phil met them at the door. "She's with some Tom guy," he pointed his thumb over his shoulder and the two men could see down the hall where Lowen sat in a chair and Rosen sat on the arm, his hand on her shoulder.

"Well, they look cozy," Ratboy noted. Bobby shot him a look and Ratboy shrugged. "What?"

The three SOA members walked down the hall. Lowen turned to them. "Any news?"

"Not yet. A couple of the guys are going out to her place though," Bobby replied. "Are you alright?"

Her eyes narrowed. "No! That psychopath was in my house. Again!" Her hand trembled over her heart. "Diane, oh God, he could have hurt her or… or…" she sighed, her temples throbbing. "Or worse." Rosen's hand on her shoulder squeezed and she covered her hand with his. "If she's hurt, it's my fault. I went to her."

"You were doing your job," Rosen argued in that simple no-nonsense tone of his. His eyes shifted from Lowen to Bobby. "Toric is a madman and needs to be stopped."

The wild-haired biker nodded. "No argument there."

::

While Tara kept Thomas in her arms, Abel giggled with his hands over his eyes. Kenny and Piper were sitting in the same fashion, eyes covered. They were playing a game with Ellie, she would hide Abel's stuffed frog somewhere in the main area of the clubhouse and the kids would shriek and shout and run about while they tried to find it.

"Okay!" Ellie announced. "The frog has been kidnapped by the villainous toad people. It's up to you to save him!"

Abel, Kenny, and Piper dropped their hands and started the mad dash. They searched under tables, on chairs, they ran around the legs of bikers and whores alike. They had a goal, a game, a distraction. Tara wished she did too.

Unfortunately for Tara, she had a very young child, was stuck in a room with her monster-in-law, and had a growing pit of fear that threatened to choke her. Or worse, make her cry. There couldn't be much of a worse time to break down, not with Gemma watching, waiting.

"You alright, Honey?" Tara blinked and turned her attention from the children to Tink.

"Fine, thanks."

Tink rolled her eyes but didn't call her out on the lie. "The kids are taking this lockdown in stride."

"For now." There would come a time, Tara was certain, when they would all become little hellions and revolt.

Abel ran over and looked up at them. "Have you seen any bad toads?"

Tink smiled and crouched down before the boy. "Why might you be looking for toads?"

He sighed dramatically. "They stole away my frog!"

She gasped in response. "The toads stole your frog?"

The little boy nodded.

"Well, I'm sorry valiant knight, I have not seen your frog, nor the toads." She put her hands on his shoulder and smiled. "I'm sure you'll find him."

Abel puffed out his chest proudly. "I will!" And then he darted off once again.

Tink straightened out and watched the children play. "You've done an amazing job with your son."

Shocked by the sudden compliment Tara smiled despite herself. "Thank you."

"I heard you saved his life when he was just born."

Tara's eyes narrowed and her voice lowered. "Those Crow Eaters also mention that I'm not his 'real' mom."

Tink scoffed and waved the words off. Of all reactions, Tara hadn't expected that one. "He is absolutely, one hundred percent your son." The relative stranger's validation made her heart happy. "I just thought it a little odd, how similar our paths were, however many years separated them."

"What do you mean?" Tara asked as she sat down at the nearest table, Tink sat across from her.

"You with Abel. You apparently returned to Charming just in time to save him. A beautiful story. From that, your relationship with Jax developed. Or so I assume, the women get a little bitchy at that point. Jealous. Nothing personal, remember that. For me, I had worked my ass off as a paramedic and yet," she motioned vaguely with one hand. "No direction beyond it, no life beyond work. Then I get this call. Pile-up on the highway. This is where I find a very pregnant woman," her eyes cast downward. "But by the time we get her to the ambulance, she's gone, baby has little time. I delivered her a month pre-mature."

Tara wondered what this had to do with her, Jax and Abel- and then it became clear. "The baby. It was Indiana, wasn't it?"

Tink nodded. "Changed my entire life. I got involved with Rane, the club, being this… mother figure to the most amazing little girl. Look, where I'm going with this is, I get it. This club, the stresses of motherhood- especially under a lockdown situation, I get the danger and the fear. I understand wanting to, needing to look like you've got it all under control but… if you need an ear-"

"I get it," Tara replied with a small smile. "And thank you."

Thomas started to fuss and Tara looked for the baby bag. "Oh here," Tink extended her arms excitedly. "Lemme hold the cutie-pie!"

With Gemma, Tara would have just held her son closer, but she passed Thomas over to Tink who proceeded to coo over the boy, tickling his belly, and getting him giggling. "Oh look at you, just look at you. You've got your momma's looks. Gonna be a real heartbreaker, aren't you?"

"May I ask you something?" Tara asked while she fished out some of the jarred food for Thomas.

"Sure, anything," she replied while continuing to play with Thomas. "I'm pretty much an open book. You know, besides the club stuff."

"Raising kids in this lifestyle is hard… is that why you and Quinn never had kids?"

Tink sighed and the joy slipped from her face for a second. "I can't have children of my own."

Despair swept through Tara. It seemed cruel that a woman like Wendy could physically carry a child only to use drugs through the pregnancy when a woman sat before her who would make a wonderful mother, _had been a wonderful mother_ , and couldn't carry a child of her own. "I'm sorry."

"I've made peace with it. Besides, I have a daughter and she is more than enough for me." Abel took that moment to cry out in triumph and he raised the plush frog above his head. Tink turned her bright blue eyes on Tara and saw the pride there. "Somehow, I think you understand that perfectly."

Tara nodded. "I do."

::

"Jesus fucking Christ." Jax looked around the main area of Judge Diane Loretto's house. One of her white leather couches had been slashed with a knife, pictures were knocked down off of shelves and shattered glass littered the floor. Little drops of blood stood out like stars against the night sky on the white rug. Anger surged through him. How many more people would Toric hurt or kill before he got to his end game? No, Jax shook his head, Toric wouldn't get to his end game. They'd kill him long before that. He'd do anything to make sure this monster stayed the fuck away from his family.

Quinn shook his head. Despite the gun in his hand, he sensed that the violence here had ended long ago. Violence toward a woman. That didn't sit right with him, never did. A man's got a problem with another man and they work it out or deal with it.

That didn't mean his moral compass hadn't wavered at points in his life, he'd done things to women for the sake of the club. So rarely he could tick them off on the fingers of one hand, remember each of their faces, their names- witnesses, snitches… worse. He'd protected one, long ago. Luckily, that hadn't come back to bite him in the ass- it could have and his SAA Harry at the time had given him an earful but ultimately had relented. Sometimes, you had to think long term. In this case, there had been something worth protecting, something more than himself- and maybe if he could admit it- more than the club.

Happy walked through the area with his gun in hand. All business. He followed the blood trail saw the broken decorative bowl, green and blue glass shards everywhere. He followed the destruction through the open concept house as his brothers trailed behind him. A bloody hand print on the wall at the base of the stairs turned them away from the untouched kitchen and toward the stairs. "Bastard was toying with her," Happy snarled. He understood the hunt, the chase, the joy that bringing another pain could give- just as he understood the very wrongness it. He enjoyed such things games with men who'd hurt his brothers, his club. A thrill in the pursuit, and even more in the kill. However, this was not that.

He followed the smears and could practically smell the woman's desperate plight. Toric had sliced her couch- a scare tactic. Probably shoved her into the wall, where her beloved pictures had fallen, glass shattering. It was likely that glass had cut her, caused the small blood spots by the shelves. Happy figured Toric had then sliced her, just a little, on the arm- that would have caused the bigger blood spots on the rug, and she would have covered the wound with her hand as she ran. Maybe she looked over her shoulder to see where he was, bumped her hip into the little table that had boasted that decorative bowl that now laid in bits on the floor. In her haste to change directions, she would have planted her now bloodied hand on the wall at the base of the stairs creating the macabre map for them. A map Happy followed up the stairs and into her bedroom where he found the woman.

Jax cursed and raked his hands through his hair. Diane Loretto laid on the floor, her blood soaked and dried in the carpet. Blood. Blood everywhere. He watched as Happy stepped as close as he could without disturbing the scene and crouched down. Jax shook his head and swallowed hard past the lump in his throat.

"We need to get out of here, brothers," Quinn said. "We need to call the cops, anonymously, and tell them we heard shouting, a possible domestic dispute while jogging by or something." Luckily, the woman lived off the beaten path so it was unlikely that they would be linked by anyone. Perhaps, unlucky for the woman. Maybe if she lived in town someone would have heard her… maybe. He shook his head of the thought. "We can't do anything for her, let's go."

"Stabbed her," Happy said, quiet but he'd never needed to raise his voice to be heard. When he spoke, people had a tendency to listen up. "By my count thirty four times, upper thighs, all the way up to her scalp."

"Hap?" Quinn motioned with his hand. "Come on."

Happy shifted his dark eyes from the woman to his former and current presidents. "We need to know what we're dealing with."

"One sick fuck," Jax quickly replied. "We already know that."

The dark eyes narrowed. "I think he also carved an anarchy symbol in her chest. Hard to tell with all the blood."

"Shit," Quinn pulled the edges of his knit cap downward.

With a hand purposely resting in the knife hilt, Happy turned to Jax. "I could obscure it."

At times like this, Jax really wished he had a local law enforcement officer in his pocket. Unser had done well for Clay, for the club. Hell, at the moment, Jax would settle for Hale. While Hale had been a pain in the ass on most days, he'd known the lesser devil when he saw it. Roosevelt? Not a fucking chance. He'd been a straight laced cop before, but fuck, after what Frankie, Go-Go and Greg-the-Peg did to his wife, there would be no way he'd help them against an ex-marshal.

He didn't see another option, but turned to Quinn. "I'm open to other suggestions."

Quinn stared at the body and sighed. "I wish I had one, brother."

Left with no other option but the only one that would keep this from landing on the club's doorstep, Jax nodded. "Do it, Hap."

And, while he took no pleasure in it, Happy did the job.

::

Lyla covered the last bullet hole with one smooth stroke of the putty knife. Sitting back on her haunches, she assessed the job. Good enough. Later, once it was dry, she'd sand it and then paint it. She rubbed her chin. What were the odds that there was still a can of paint lying around to match the walls? Unlikely. New paint then, a bright new coat. Fresh beginnings. Something bold, cheerful. She could use some cheerful.

"Glass is all swept up," Primo announced as he walked into the living room where she remained crouched, staring at the wall. "Should take a shop-vac around here before letting the kids back in though. Likely still a bunch of little shards around."

A little nod. She stood and turned to him. "Thank you for all of your help."

He shrugged. "You should sell this place."

Her spine stiffened and her eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?" She still held a great deal of hope for the tiny house and desperately wanted to make it work. The thought of selling- of giving up in her mind- made her angry and a little sad.

"It's too small," he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You sleep on the couch because you gave Ellie your room."

Red rose to the apples of her cheeks and bloomed right to her hairline. _Too small._ And she could hardly afford it. She didn't live in the best part of town, she didn't live in a large house with luxuries like a pool or a garage and still the mortgage was nearly crippling her finances. She had the house long before she and Opie had gotten together. Even when she'd stayed there occasionally, even when they'd been wed, she'd kept the house. This was her first real home, the place where she raised Piper on her own. She couldn't just let that go. She figured that was the same reasoning as to why she hadn't sold Opie and Donna's place (and despite being married to Opie, she'd never thought of it as her own, even when she'd gotten it through her late husband's will) she wanted it for Ellie and Kenny one day. She couldn't sell, but she couldn't live there either. Not with the ghost of her husband, not with the constant memory that she'd been the replacement for a dearly loved wife. A poor replacement at that.

She couldn't find the words to explain it to him. Probably for the best, she doubted she could speak without crying and God, she'd done enough crying in front of this man. In a minimal defense, she crossed her arms over her chest. The house is too small. She knew that, of course she knew that. It had fit her and Piper just fine. Their family had grown and those kids would keep growing and she couldn't sleep on the couch forever.

He took a step closer. "You need to think about the future, Dulzura."

"What does that even mean?" she snapped even as tears welled in her eyes.

"It means that you have three children who are-"

"I know I got kids depending on me to raise 'em and keep a roof over their head!" she cut him off, her narrowed eyes highlighting her irritation. "What the hell do you keep calling me?"

"Oh, ah-" It was the first time since she'd known him that he looked embarrassed.

Disappointment settled around her heart. "It's something dirty, isn't it?"

"No," he shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Translates to sweetness."

Warmth spread through her and a small smile curved her lips. "Really?"

He stepped closer and risked brushing his thumb along her jawline. A night with her laying against him, dazed by her kisses, impassioned by her easy, loving nature, Primo had come to a conclusion. He wanted her, despite her complications, and maybe even (in part) because of them. He saw the mother, the friend, the lover, the saint, and the sinner all wrapped up into one enticing package and he'd be damned if it didn't stir something within him. For years he'd gone through the motions, worked, partied, and slept. She made him feel fully alive. "You need to start thinking about the future, Dulzura. And if you want me to be a part of it."

Her mouth formed an 'O' as her eyes widened. She hadn't expected that of him. Wished perhaps, but never expected. She had the near irresistible urge to kiss him, lead him to the couch and have her way with him. Still, she did have to think of the future, the children, and if this man fit with her _and_ her family. She nodded, slowly as if in a daze. "We need to take things slow."

He nodded, even as his eyes trailed down her face to her lips. "Real slow," he murmured.

"Real slow," she repeated before locking lips with him.

One kiss. One kiss was all it took to shove 'slow' into the back seat. Busy hands grasped and yanked at the clothing of the other. Greedy lips devoured newly exposed flesh. They teetered on the edge of sanity as the world took a back seat. Skin on skin, they sunk down onto the pull out couch and fell together.

::

Growing up with her father the President of the Nomad charter had given Indiana a different perspective, a different skillset. Her father had given her a BB gun and taught her how to aim. Frankie Diamonds and Herbert had taken her training wheels off and taught her to ride two-wheels while her dad was on a run. Harry had taught her how to whistle at an obnoxious decibel by sticking her fingers in her mouth. Her dad and Tink had taught her to hot-wire a car. Cricket had taught her to pick a lock.

That last skill currently came in handy. Indiana took one last look down the empty hallway and prayed that it stayed that way. Most of the doors had electronic locks with key cards, this side of the building had been due for the same treatment but then Diosa started losing money, and that had obviously pushed renovations to the side.

She stood before Travis Irving's office at Diosa, she'd tapped on the door past when he usually left but no answer. Perfect. Since foot traffic was constant at Diosa, Indiana made it quick. She pulled the lock-pick set (a graduation gift from the man who'd taught her) out of the front pouch of her purse. She unsnapped the clasp and opened the leather and pulled the tension wrench and the pick out. She shoved the tension wrench in the bottom and applied pressure turning it slightly, not hearing the 'no-no click' she assumed she was turning it in the right direction. Learning to pick a lock had taken her the better part of the summer when she'd been fifteen. The skill required a vast pool of patience.

Feeling the individual pins, she determined number three was the most stubborn and started there. Pushing it up into place she heard the faint click of the upper pin being set. Pride filled her but her lips remained in a grim line, another four pins to go. The next two were a breeze but her palms had started to sweat and she'd nearly lost grip on the tension wrench, which would have meant having to start all over again. She kept her breath steady, even as she feared getting caught.

Maybe Nero would have been okay with her snooping, maybe he would have given her a key, but she didn't want to risk it. Most of the men in her life liked to tuck her in the corner and tell her to stay put. She'd said she'd take care of this problem, and God dammit, that was what she intended to do.

With the last two pins in place she pulled the pick out and twisted the tension wrench. Satisfaction poured over her as she heard the lock click and that bolt slide. "Still got it," she whispered to herself with a proud smile. Taking one more look down both ends of the hallway, she slipped into the room.

The office might as well have been a duplicate of her own. Only real difference was how tidy his space was compared to hers. Wasting no time, she walked around the desk and started pulling open drawers. The first contained: paperclips, a box of staples, yellow sticky notes (the top reading 'return Uncle's call'), a calculator, and a couple of AAA batteries. She opened the second drawer and found a photograph peeking out from its spot under a note pad and laying over the phone book. She pulled the photograph free and stared at the younger Travis with his arm around a beautiful young woman with blonde hair and a brilliant smile. They stood side by side, obviously comfortable with one another. A friend? A lover? She turned it over but he hadn't written anything on the back. "Useless." She put it back where she found it. She pulled on the filing cabinets but found them locked. Picking the little things wouldn't take all that much ti- The door knob turned and Indiana whipped around and pulled open the first drawer just as the door opened.

With a big smile she looked at Travis. "Hey," she held up the box of his staples. "I ran out."

The shock wore off his face and his eyes narrowed at her. "How did you get in here?"

"I knocked, tried the knob and found it open." She gave an easy shrug and bit her tongue to keep from adding too much. She already looked damn suspicious.

"You went through my drawers?" His voice seemed even enough but Indiana could see the tension in his posture.

Now or never, she thought and felt a little more secure with the door open. "Yeah, sorry. Didn't think staples would be such a big deal. Did see your picture though," she put on what she hoped was a light-hearted smile. "Girlfriend?"

"She was my cousin."

She saw that his grip on the doorknob had become so tight his knuckles turned white. She'd pushed far enough. "I'm sorry. I'll just get back to work."

He blocked her as she took a step forward, and she thought she was heading for further confrontation. Instead, he grabbed his jacket from the decorative seat by the door and then stepped back, allowing her to exit. "Best lock the door this time."

She nodded but heard something in his voice that told her that he hadn't believed the lie. She kept the box of staples pressed to her chest as she hurried back toward her own office.

"Indiana?"

Nearly jumping out of her skin, Indiana turned and let out a breath seeing it was only Nero who sought her. "Nero."

"Your office." He placed a hand on her lower back and guided her there. She used her key-card to gain access and held the door open for him. He didn't speak until the door had closed. "How close are you?"

She bit her bottom lip and tossed the staples onto the desk. "There really isn't an answer for that. I have someone, someone I trust hacking through accounts. I didn't make a mistake, Nero. That money is being syphoned into two accounts. I have a very trusted friend hacking the bank but it takes time."

"I'm out of rope here, Miss Quinn," Nero replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "I just got a check back. It bounced… for my son's healthcare. The club is pitching in money, I managed to pay another month for Lucius. Time is running out." He turned and had his hand on the knob before he turned back. "Your father wants you to call him before you leave." And then he left.

Indiana sat on the corner of her desk. The rush of adrenaline that had come with breaking, entering, and being caught in Irving's office still had her shaken. Now Nero was telling her just how close to the brink the business was to failing. She checked her phone and e-mail but found nothing from Dax. She rubbed her hands over her face. "Please, hurry."


	42. To Control The Things We Can

The little diner came with the sound of constant chatter. A couple of old men argued over sports teams. Little old ladies huddled up in the corner, sharing gossip. A couple leaned over their table to sneak a kiss. A small child screamed, and threw a box of crayons while his parents tried to soothe him. Busy little spot. Chibs immediately looked around wondering if they’d find a spot to sit.

 

“Woah, cool!” A little boy ran up and pulled on Tig’s kutte. “Is that your bike outside?”

 

Tig grinned. “It is.”

 

“So cool!” The little boy chattered excitedly. “Mom said that this weekend we’ll try taking my training wheels off again!”

 

That harried mother rushed over, jamming her wallet into her purse. “I’m so sorry!” She picked the boy up, and held him close, her eyes never leaving bikers. “I only took my eyes off him for a second to pay. I’m sorry he bothered you.”

 

Tig flashed a grin. “No bother. Good luck with riding two-wheels, kid.”

 

“Thanks!” The boy waved over his mother’s shoulder as she hurried out.

 

“I think we may have scared the locals,” Fiona murmured. She’d noticed how the chatter had lowered since they’d come in. She’d also made eye contact with a few people, only to have them hastily look away.

 

Kerrianne didn’t care one bit. She’d grabbed a menu off the waitress booth. “The double cheese burger looks delicious!”

 

It seemed to the group as if the waitress had lost a game of ‘Rock, Paper, Scissors,’ and had to serve them. She grabbed a pile of menus, and managed a forced smile. “Right this way, please.”

 

“Hey,” Lorca spoke up, and the young woman nearly jumped out of her skin. “We’ll take two outside.”

 

Chibs shot Tig a dirty look, but the man just smiled back. While Lorca and Peanut went and sat outside at one of the stone tables, Chibs, Kerrianne, Trinity and Fiona squeezed into one side of the booth while Tig, Angus and Juice took the other side. Maureen pulled up an extra chair and opted for the extra room.

 

“I’m jealous,” Tig kicked Chibs lightly after acquiring the coveted outermost seat of the booth. “You’ve got two beautiful ladies on your side, I’ve got these two.” He pointed his thumb at Angus and Juice.

 

“Fuck you, man,” Angus said without any heat, his eyes skimming the menu. “I’m gorgeous and you know it.” This incited a little laughter, the group needing the lightheartedness after the past few days.

 

The group ordered quickly, the basics of burgers, fries, and soda. Except for Kerrianne. Kerrianne went overboard. “Two double cheeseburgers, large fries, large vanilla milkshake, do you guys have onion rings? I’d kill for some onion rings.”

  
The waitress stared wide-eyed for a second before recovering from shock. “Yeah, we have onion rings.”

 

“Cool, add those on.”

  
The waitress’s eyebrows shot up. “In place of the fries?”

 

Kerrianne shook her head. “With the fries, and the burgers and the shakes.” Her eyes continued looking over the menu. “Woah! You guys have wings! Get me a dozen, honey garlic.”

 

Chibs stared at his daughter before looking at his wife, expecting her to say something. Fiona shrugged before leaning into him and whispering; “Whatever she doesn’t eat, we can just pack up.”

 

While Kerrianne and Trinity got chatting, occasionally having either Juice or Angus pipe in, Tig caught Chibs’s attention and nodded his head toward the door. “How about a smoke before the meals come?”

 

It seemed less of a suggestion, and more of a way to get him away from the table. Chibs didn’t want to leave. He’d just gotten his family back. Still, he knew it likely had to do with the club. He squeezed Fiona’s hand. “I’ll be right back.”

 

“Boys?” Tig raised an eyebrow.

 

Angus nodded, sliding out of the booth before reaching in, and grabbing Juice’s arm. “You too.”

 

“So, are cigarettes breaks for men are like bathroom breaks for women?” Trinity asked philosophically.

 

“Yeah,” Kerrianne beamed. “They’re going to talk about girls, trade information about motorcycles, and fix their helmet hair.”

 

Maureen laughed. “I was a little afraid you’d say ‘talk about men, trade make-up tips, and reapply lipstick.’”

 

“Only Tig, and only on Sundays,” Fiona chimed in causing another round of laughter from the women.

 

::

 

Quinn, and Happy sat at one of the small round tables inside the Charming Clubhouse. They each had a bottle of beer, trying to drown the memory of Diane Loretto. “That was some fucked up shit,” Quinn said, breaking the tense silence. He chugged half the beer and set the bottle back down on the table. “Some really fucked up shit.”

 

Happy nodded, but didn’t verbally reply. He could still feel that cold blood on his hands, could still remember how difficult it had been to obscure the anarchist symbol from her chest since her body had gone into full rigor mortis. He’d found no pleasure, no peace, in what he’d done. Maybe that was why it stuck, and haunted him.

 

Quinn wanted these club problems dealt with. Toric. Diosa. Both posed threats to the clubs. Toric also apparently posed a threat to anyone even associated with someone from the SOA.

 

Happy finished off his beer, but before he even could set it down, Tink grabbed the empty from his hand, and put another on the table. “Looks like you could use it.”

 

He picked up the bottle, and raised it toward her in silent thanks. She smiled, her hand rested on his shoulder briefly, and squeezed before she walked off. He’d always liked Tink, she had a knack for putting people of all sorts at ease- even him. She always had an ear open, and a spare moment for whoever needed it. And for him, she had that innate kindness, and the understanding that he didn’t want or need words.

 

Quinn still nursed his beer, having no intention of getting drunk. The honest drunk trait never failed to be an embarrassment at least, a genuine clusterfuck at worst. His phone rang, and he quickly fished it out of his pocket. The familiar number had him letting out a sigh of relief. “Indie.”

 

_“Hey, Dad. Nero told me I was to call you before I left.”_

 

“Yeah. I want you to come to the clubhouse. I want you under lockdown.”

 

_“No.”_

 

“Excuse me?” Quinn’s voice became tight and angry. Happy sat a little straighter as he listened to his Quinn’s side of the conversation.

 

_“What is this about?”_

 

“Toric had three club members murdered in prison, and he may have personally killed a judge.”

 

_“And what does this have to do with me?”_

 

“Indiana Jessica Quinn-“

 

 _“I’m not twelve, Dad,”_ she replied, sounding tired. _“The use of my full name isn’t going to strike the fear of God into me anymore. This isn’t about Diosa, which is my job here. This is about Toric, a club problem, of which, I’m far removed from. I’m not going to put my life on hold because you’re being overly paranoid.”_

“You’re coming here,” he snarled, “you’re staying here, and that is all there is to this. This isn’t up for debate, Indiana. I didn’t ask you, I told you. This man is dangerous, and I don’t like the idea of my daughter unprotected.”

 

_“Is Brooklyn there?”_

 

A knife stabbed into his heart. “You know she won’t speak to me.”

 

 _“Because you’re completely overbearing. Dad, I love you, but you have to trust that I don’t need to be locked up in some little room until the danger is over. And let’s face it, the danger is never over. Even when you think everything is safe, I can still get hit by a car crossing the street, or get into a fight at a bar, or-“_ she sighed heavily. _“I’m not coming in for lockdown. I’ll keep my door locked, I’ll sleep with my gun, but I’m not returning to that clubhouse right now. Respect it.”_

 

Quinn always found it most difficult when his little girl managed to maintain a complete calm while arguing with him. An infuriating trait all her own. Worse, she made enough sense to let him relent a little. More, she’d brought up Brooklyn, just to create a little doubt, a little pain, and a backhanded threat that she too could walk away, and sever ties. “That gun better be fucking loaded.”

 

 _“Thank you.”_ He heard the smile in her voice, but it didn’t make him feel any better. _“And you should call Brooke, warn her about what is going on. That guy threatened Tink in Sanctuary, a place we’d assume safety. I doubt she’d agree to lockdown, but I’d feel better if I knew she was packing.”_

 

“Maybe you should call her then, she might actually answer the call then.”

 

A half-minute of silence. _“I’m not so sure, but I’ll try. I’m leaving Diosa now. Be safe, Dad.”_

 

“You too, Little Anarchist.” He hung up the phone, and shoved it back into his pocket. He sipped on the beer that started to become warm. “It’s hard when children grow up,” he informed Happy. “They become adults, and as a parent, it’s hard to remember they have a mind, and a life of their own.”

 

He understood what had transpired over the phone, and although he didn’t display it externally, it worried him. “She not coming in?”

 

“No. And apparently I have to respect that choice.” He picked at the label on his beer bottle. It didn’t sit well with him, not with the vultures flying overhead.

 

“We could drag her in,” Happy suggested. He’d rather have her safe and pissed instead of potentially getting hurt, besides, she already seemed plenty pissed at him anyway.

 

“Do you remember when she took off for University?”

 

Happy nodded.

 

“She’d return home eventually, I have no doubt of that, but that girl can incredibly stubborn. She’s got enough nomad in her to take off, smart enough to stay off the grid, and she’d have enough anger to stay gone.” Quinn shrugged, unsure of whether he was making the right call or not. “She’s old enough to make her own decisions, and she’s too old for me to just drag her in against he will. I’ve got one kid haven’t seen since infancy, another who hates me, I’m not going to risk my relationship with my Little Anarchist on this. I have to trust her.”

 

“You trying to convince me, or you?” Happy asked.

 

Quinn barked out a humourless laugh. “I want her safe, but who says that that is here?” He looked around the room and spotted Tara sitting in the corner, colouring with Abel, while Tink cooed over Thomas. “Toric wants Tara, and that makes this place a target. Indie might be safer out of here.”

 

“She’s alone.” Happy’s stomach churned with that one thought. An easy target.

 

“But she’s not defenseless, she’s a good shot.”

 

“But would she take it?” Happy shot back. “A real human being, would she shoot?”

 

“Yes,” Quinn replied instantly. He remembered his daughter admitting the desire to kick the down-and-out croweater after a fistfight. She had enough experience in this life to figure out what constituted as a threat, enough skill to shoot straight, and enough of a spine to take the shot.

 

Happy wasn’t so sure, even if she had fired off a warning shot so damn close to his head he’d heard buzzing in his ears for a day following. She’d always had such a sweet spirit, and he couldn’t imagine her actually pulling the trigger to end a life. She had a part to play in the planning of riding the world of Helena Leto, her half-sister, Brooklyn’s, mother. Playing mastermind, and having someone else do the dirty work is completely different than being in the room and robbing someone of their final breath.

 

He wanted her under lockdown. Wanted her where he could see her, see that she was safe. He had half the mind to go out, pick her up, and drag her back here, regardless of what her father said. But he didn’t, because Quinn was right. When cornered, Indiana Quinn would run as far as she could, as fast as she could, and she’d leave them all in the dark about it if it suited her best. While he didn’t like the idea of her being out of the clubhouse, he had to admit, with Tara here, it did have a target on it. She might very well be safer in that little house under Nero’s name.

 

_Maybe._

_Probably._

 

He chugged half of his second beer while his mind tortured him.

 

::

 

Indiana sat in her car with her phone in hand. She dialled before she could lose nerve. On the third ring she got an answer.

 

_“Hello?”_

 

“Brooke? It’s Indiana.”

 

_“Oh sweet Jesus! A few days ago I got a call from Tink. Is she okay?”_

  
“Yeah,” Indiana bit her bottom lip, and tried to push down her conflicted feelings about her sister. “But I just wanted to give you a heads up, keep a gun with you, the club is in some deep shit-“

  
_“Isn’t it always?”_

 

Indiana let out a humourless laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

 

 _“Why do you stay_?”

 

“Why did you leave?”

 

Brooklyn scoffed, the noise creating static on the line. _“Because that life would have destroyed me. There is no end to it all!”_

 

“You’re on the outside now, but that doesn’t mean that you couldn’t be targeted. Being on the outside doesn’t mean safety.”

 

_“Neither does being on the inside, now does it?”_

 

Indiana’s temper flared. “At least I have people who give a damn about me, who would protect me!”

 

_“I’m out. I don’t need someone to watch my ass every second of every day. I don’t need Dad telling me where to go, and when to go there, and I don’t stay for days under lockdown, or have any of his brothers keeping tabs on me-“_

 

“They care about you, even if you can be a total bitch!”

 

_“Oh fuck you, Indiana!”_

The click signified the disconnected call. “Well fuck you too,” Indiana muttered as she tossed her phone onto the passenger’s seat. She rested her head against the wheel as the emotional toll of the phone call hit her. She did love her half-sister, but she hated her too. She wondered if they would ever have a functioning sibling relationship, or even manage a phone call that didn’t end in one of them hanging up. Taking a steading breath, she started the car, and slammed the gearshift into drive.

 

::

 

Chibs took a drag off his third cigarette in the time Tig had taken to fill him in. “Jesus Christ. Is that all?”

 

“I think I got it all,” Tig turned to Angus who shrugged in response. “Anyway, last I heard, we were calling another lockdown since the judge got offed.”

 

“Fuck.” Juice wished for a joint, but was stuck with a cigarette bummed off Angus. At least the guy didn’t smoke light or menthol. “Should we be bringing the women in to the clubhouse then?”

 

“Jax said it’s a judgement call,” Tig replied, dropping the end of his cigarette and stubbing it out with his boot. “I figure it’ll likely be pretty full in there. Probably not where you’ll get the best rest.”

 

“I’ll take my girls home,” Chibs said, he had confidence that he could keep them safe. Besides, he’d been gone three days, and figured himself an unlikely target anyway. “Mo and Trinity can make up their own minds.”

 

“Looks like our food is here,” Angus nodded his head toward the window.

 

Chibs just wanted to eat, and get home with his girls. Eager to get things along, he headed back inside with the rest of the guys following.

 

::

 

Even after moving the box of ashes out of the bedroom, Indiana found the room eerie. She’d checked the window multiple times, and had pulled the drapes closed. The light stayed on so shadows couldn’t play tricks on her mind. Earlier, she’d tried sleeping on the couch, but it didn’t seem to matter the venue, her mind wouldn’t rest.

 

Diosa, Nero’s bouncing check, Travis Irving finding her in his office, Everything she’d heard about Toric, Joshua Manning, the death of MacAlister Smith, the promises she’d made to her father (and indeed every door and window were firmly locked, her gun sat, still loaded with the four bullets Happy had left remaining, on the bedside table), that drunken mess in the alley before Happy had found her, her and Happy in the back room at Sanctuary along with the way he’d looked at her afterwards, the mess he’d made of her in her office at Diosa when Mac still drew breath, the teasing of her peers, the aversion of her peers, her kindergarten teacher- “Jesus fucking Christ!”

 

Angry with herself, she stormed out of the bedroom, down the hall, and into the bathroom. She searched through the medicine cabinet until she found the bottle. Her heart rate slowed as she drew in a steadying breath. “Em is right,” she muttered to herself. Everything in her life piled up, and she kept trying to push it back down, and it didn’t work. The defense mechanism had never been anything but a temporary fix that now threatened to destroy her.

 

Despite the warnings of how dangerous things were for the club at the moment, she downed the two sleeping pills. She wouldn’t be any good to anyone, and wouldn’t stand a chance at finding her own emotional balance while exhausted. She walked back through the hallway, her eyes dropping down to the box of ashes just outside the door. “Watch over me, okay, Mac? I know it’s a lot to ask, what with me getting you killed here, and all, but, just… just for tonight, stick around?”

 

Deciding that talking to a box of ashes had to be a good sign of mental instability, she walked back into the bedroom, and laid down. The lights stayed on, but didn’t rob her of the sleep the pills lulled her into.

 

::

 

“Well, this is it,” Juice walked into the house first. The door opened into the modest kitchen, a door lead them into the living room. He pointed down the hallway. “Bathroom is on the right, guest room on the left, master at the end. You two can fight it out, I’ll take the couch.”

  
“Trinity and I can share,” Maureen argued. “It isn’t fair to take your bed.”

 

“I usually end up falling asleep on the couch anyway, it’s not a hardship.”

 

“Do you have a computer?” Trinity asked, breaking the conversation of sleeping arrangements.

 

“I’m the club’s intelligence officer, of course I do.”

 

“May I borrow it? Just for a second.”

 

Maureen stood a little straighter as she studied her daughter. “Is this about whatever plan you and Scrum had and have refused to discuss?”

 

Trinity shot her mother a dark look before turning to Juice. “Please?”

 

Juice pulled open a drawer in the entertainment stand, and pulled out one of his three laptops. While a little older than the others, he chose this one since he was pretty sure he didn’t have any porn bookmarked on it. “Here,” he passed it to her while he pulled out the charging cord.

 

Once it plugged in and booted, Trinity looked to him again. “Password?”

 

A little embarrassed by what he’d chosen at the time, he took the laptop away, and typed in KERRIANNE, before passing it back.

 

“Don’t trust me?” She asked with a smile. He just stuck out his tongue at her, making her laugh. “Dork.”

 

Maureen watched over her daughter’s shoulder. News in Belfast. Bombing. Body fragments identified through DNA testing. Brennan and Kyle Roarke. “Oh my God. You two didn’t!”

 

Trinity bit the inside of her cheek while she took a steadying breath through her nose. “I had little to do with it.”

 

“You helped commit a double homicide,” Maureen hissed.

 

“I’m an accomplice at kidnapping, I didn’t kill anyone,” Trinity shot back. She put the laptop down on the coffee table before she stood and whirled around on her mother. “And Brennan was one of the kings, one of those IRA bastards who kept you, who blew up the SAMBEL clubhouse! It’s time they got a taste of their own medicine.”

 

Juice sat on the floor with the laptop, his eyes quickly taking in the information. He took a deep breath. This would piss the IRA off. Chance of retaliation? High. A problem for SAMBEL? Definitely. A problem for SAMCRO? Possibly. He cursed. “I’ve got to call Jax.”

 

“It’s Seamus’s problem now!” Trinity still burned over how easily he’d let her go, how he’d refused to help her retrieve her mother.

 

“SAMCRO and SAMBEL are in shit with the IRA,” Juice explained. “This kind of retaliation isn’t going to make this a specific _charter_ problem, it’s going to become a _club_ problem.”

 

“Surely they have other enemies,” Trinity reasoned.

 

“Yeah, well, you missed this part,” Juice cleared his throat and started to read. “Two members of a local motorcycle club were brought in for questioning in relation to evidence found inside of the building.”

  
“Does it say who?” Trinity sat down on the floor and looked over Juice’s shoulder.

 

“No, but I’m sure I could find out pretty fast.”

 

Trinity hoped with all her might that Scrum hadn’t been caught. “Please do,” she requested with her fingers crossed.

 

::

 

“An impressive eater, our lass,” Chibs said as he put a container consisting of half a double cheeseburger, a couple of onion rings and two wings, into the fridge.

 

“And it never goes to her hips,” Fiona replied a little envious of her daughters metabolism.

 

“We should follow her lead,” he said, referring to the fact that the moment they’d gotten into the house, Kerrianne had made a beeline for the couch and flopped down on it. She’d made a brief declaration of how comfy it was before snoring ensued. “Is she a heavy sleeper?” he asked.

 

“After the day she’s had, you wouldn’t be able to wake her by banging pots and pans.”

 

He smiled wickedly at his wife. “Excellent.”

 

::

 

And then his hands were on her, lips were claiming hers. He didn’t need to open his eyes to navigate the house. He led her slowly through the space easily enough, his lips never leaving hers. She gave over absolute trust as she walked blindly backwards in the unfamiliar house. His lips skimmed along her jaw, and left a trail of kisses down her neck.

 

“Oh, Filip,” she sighed his name breathily. Her back hit the door, and she fumbled for the doorknob. Turning it, they nearly fell in, both laughed.

 

Eagerly, they returned to one another, desperate for connection. Fiona’s hands trembled with anticipation as she stripped off her husband’s shirt. Her lips brushed along the newly exposed skin, and ink. His hand went to her neck, his thumb under her jaw forcing her to look up at him again. She remained the most beautiful woman in the world to him. He kissed her for all he was worth, hands busy with the buttons on her shirt until it fell away with a shrug of her shoulders.

 

Lips and hands remained busy. They shed clothing like a second skin. Nothing else in the world mattered. It was as though they’d never been separated. In that moment, in each other’s arms, the world righted itself, and nothing could be more perfect in their eyes.

 

He cupped her breasts in his hands, enjoying the weight of them. In a quick movement, he unhooked the magnetized front and flicked the annoying garment off her shoulders. This time, his hands were joined with his mouth, her moans urging him on. He nipped, and flicked his tongue over her nipple. After so many years together, he knew just how to drive her into madness. Her hands threaded through his hair, and gripped, holding him in place. “Sometimes, I forget it can be this good.”

 

He nipped again before pressing his lips hard against hers. He slipped two fingers inside of her, and she whimpered against his lips. “Love, it’s going to get a hell of a lot better.”

 

She smiled wickedly. “I’ll hold you to that.”

 

He backed her against the bed, her arms wrapped around his neck, and she pulled him down with her. She peppered his face with kisses, bursting with the love she felt for this man. “I don’t know how I ever managed a day without you. I love you, Filip.”

 

He wished for the years back, those years they’d fucked up thinking they were doing the right thing, the safe thing, a temporary necessity. He wished they’d done things differently. He wanted those years with his wife, and daughter back. Since he couldn’t, he’d damn well make the best of the years he did have, he’d make them count.

 

She surprised him by reversing their positions. She kissed him quickly on the lips before shifting back, and grabbing his cock. “I love foreplay as much as the next person,” she told him before she sank down onto this length, a sigh escaping her lips as her head tipped back. “But don’t you think we’ve waited long enough?”

 

A rhetorical question if he ever heard one. ‘Nah, let’s just hold off on the main event,’ said no man ever. In a state of awe, he watched her. She rode him slowly, lifting herself slightly before sinking back down at the same speed. His hands ran over her trembling thighs as she quickened the pace.

 

His hands went to her hips, fingers digging in as she took him deep. Her breasts bounced as she desperately rode his cock. She muttered incoherently, he only caught the words ‘yes,’ ‘so good,’ along with the occasional use of his name. He thrust his hips as she came down, and she cried out, her hands slamming down on his chest trying to maintain her balance as he continued the quick thrusts.

 

She laid over him, her forearms bracing herself on either side of his head. Their lips met, her teeth pulled on his lower lip as she whimpered in delight. She couldn’t kiss him anymore, no matter how much she wanted to. She panted, and timed the movements of her hips to meet his. His hand remained on her ass guiding her in time with his thrusts, the other skimmed along her back and tangled up in the mess of her dark hair. “God, I love you, Fi.” And upon that declaration she cried out, uncaring if their sleeping daughter heard her.

 

That delighted look upon her face, her elated cry, and the way her pussy clamped around him drove him mad. He managed a few more thrusts before his hands fisted, and teeth clenched, trying to make sure that _he_ didn’t wake their sleeping daughter, as he came inside of her.

 

“I don’t want to move,” she muttered against his shoulder. “Not ever.”

 

He smiled even as exhaustion pulled on them both. “Well, we can both stay here, just for a minute.” They both fell to sleep, and that minute lasted until well past midnight.


	43. Indulgance

Indiana awoke feeling refreshed. A lazy smile fitted upon her face as she stretched out. The baby blue pajama shorts had twisted in the night, and she adjusted them on her hips so the little bow sat at the front where it should. She rolled to her side, and checked the time; a little after nine am. Beside the digital alarm clock sat her gun, and a glass of water sat on the night stand. She grabbed the water, and took a couple of small sips.

 

She decided to go for a run. Instill a little normalcy back into her life. She picked up the gun, felt the weight of it. There was no way she would leave without it, and yet, she didn’t know how she’d be able to run with it. She remembered unpacking a shoulder rig, not hers, but Mac’s that had ended up in her bag. She could use it, and cover it with a hoodie. _And when you need it, you won’t be able to get it._ The thought ended up brushed aside as overly paranoid. She’d take a route straight through the heart of Charming, in broad daylight, no one would dare try anything.

 

After getting dressed in her dark blue track pants, a lighter sports bra, and the matching zip up sweater that hid her shoulder rig, and the Colt, she practiced dipping her hand in the opening, grabbing the grip, and pulling the gun out. It would work just fine. She stuffed the gun back in, and knew the security was worth the bit of discomfort. Once her water bottles were full, stuffed in the belt, and slung around her hips, she grabbed her music player, and jammed the buds in her ears. Jamming to her favourite, fast beat, running tunes, she stuffed her feet into her favourite blue, and orange runners, picked up her keys, and started out the door.

 

She tripped, stumbled, and regained her balance. “What the fuck?” She turned, and looked down at the small box sitting in front of her door. Grabbing the cord, she pulled both buds out of her ear simultaneously, and looked around. Her hand slipped into the opening of the hoodie, fingers wrapped around the grip of her gun. Taking deep breaths as she tried to contain the panic, her back hit the wall of the house, and her eyes glanced back down at the box. The box appeared small, and harmless. Her name had been written in black marker.

 

A couple of curses slipped out of her lips as she considered her next move. Calling her father was out of the question. He’d lock her up, and never let her out again. Calling Emily would only make things worse, she’d freak out, head over, but not before informing Angus, and possible Quinn himself. “It’s just a box.” But there were no postage stamps, no addresses, just a box with her name on it. It gave her a serious case of the creeps.

 

Unwarranted, she thought of Happy. If she called, if she asked him not to tell, he’d come, and he wouldn’t say a word to anyone about it. She pinched the bridge of her nose while trying to think clearly. If someone wanted to harm her, they wouldn’t put a bomb outside of her house, besides she’d kicked it when she’d run by, and nothing had happened. In fact, it had slid easily. She touched the side with her toe, and gave it a little push. Super light.

 

Crouching down she picked up the box, and so she wouldn’t feel like there were a thousand eyes on her, she took it inside.

 

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, goosebumps broke out as a shudder rippled down her spine. “Okay, okay,” she comforted herself with the sound of her own voice. “It’s okay. Just a box. Just some fucked up delivery. Maybe Nero had something for me and didn’t want to wake me up or wait for me to get into the office.” She didn’t believe it in the least, but it did make her feel better to think of other options then a bomb, which was where her brain had gotten stuck.

 

Her fingernails dug under the edge of the tape, and she tore it back. She carefully pulled up the first flap, bending slightly so she could see in. Bubble wrap. “What the ever loving fuck?” She opened the other flaps and stared in at a big wad of bubble wrap.

 

The thought of it being a prank of some sort hit her, and seemed as likely as anything else. Even with all that was going on, the men in her life had always retained their fucked up sense of humour. She pulled out the wad of bubble wrap and started to unroll it, the less wrap, the more she could see that something was rolled within.

 

When she’d unrolled the lot, she leaned heavily on the counter as her knees shook so hard they knocked together. The bubble wrap had been protecting a stack of photographs which she had spread over the countertop. The first three happened in succession, and she clearly remembered the night they’d been taken. The Diosa parking lot was decently lit, and by Happy’s Dyna, she stood in his arms, her fingers clenched in his shirt. The second picture wasn’t much a change from the first, other than the fact that this time, Happy’s hand had gripped her braid and pulled her head back, her mouth slightly open and the expression caught on Happy’s face made her heart trip up. The next had been snapped right after, Happy’s hand had cupped her jaw, and the photograph looked far more intimate than the moment had been.

 

They weren’t the only photographs though. Another caught her jogging through Charming, Indiana guessed it had been taken only a few days after she’d arrived. Another caught her vehicle pulling into Teller-Morrow.

 

The first three caused her panic, because they linked her with Happy. Whoever watched her, wanted her to know that he or she had seen her with Happy. She wondered if it meant he was in danger. Hard to think of a man like him needing a warning, and besides, who the fuck would mess with that mean ol’ sonofabitch?

 

The other photographs focusing solely on her gave her the creeps, but the last photograph in took the cake. Her fingers shook as she drew it closer. In it, she was in bed, laid out on her side over the blankets in her pajamas. The pajamas she’d shucked off this morning, and tossed in the hamper. The fucking picture had been taken while she’d been in la-la land thanks to a couple of sleeping pills. Whoever it was had stood in her room while she laid prone, her gun on the night table might as well have been on Mars for all the good it would have done her.

 

A slip of plain white printer paper sat at the bottom. **TELL NO ONE. BACK OFF** _._ Five words that practically jumped off the page. Whoever was stealing the money either suspected, or knew that she was working at Diosa trying to locate the money. The way she figured it, she must be on the right track if they’d left a threat on her doorstep. In that moment, she was glad she’d skipped breakfast, sure that if she’d eaten, it would have come back up. She gathered up the photographs, and took them to the living room. Maybe if she could get past the fear, and approach it logically, she could figure out who could have taken them.

 

::

 

Taking advantage of the well-stocked fridge, and reasoning that a lot of it crept close to the expiry date, Kerrianne cooked up a storm. She enjoyed cooking, unlike guitar lessons, reading paranormal books, and video games, cooking had been a hobby Jimmy hadn’t put an end to.

 

She started opening cupboards for a mug, she found it, and paused. Taped to the inside of the cupboard, the one with the mugs and plates, the one she guessed he used most, was a picture of their family together. The photograph had yellowed with age, there were creases and even a little tear in the bottom corner. In it, she was awfully young, but held in her father’s arm, his other arm around her mother. They looked good together. A happy normal family. Below it, a newer picture was taped. She remembered it, her father and some of SAMCRO had come to rescue Abel. This had been taken the final night, a little party. He and her mother sat on a loveseat, his arm over her shoulder, a whiskey in hand clinking against the one Kerrianne, who sat on the arm, had. Her fingers traced over the edge as her lips turned in a smile. She would have new memories, new photographs, a new life. Suddenly, leaving Ireland to live in California didn’t seem so bad.

 

“Grab another mug, would ya?”

  
She whirled around, her heart lodged in her throat. “Da!” she whined. “Make some noise, for the love of Christ, you nearly killed me!” He chuckled, and removed the kettle from the burner just as it started to screech. She pushed the teapot in his direction, already stuffed with a couple of teabags. “Teabags,” she shook her head. “You don’t have any loose leaf!”

 

He sighed. “You’re just like your Ma with that crap. It’s the same damn thing.”

 

She clucked her tongue off the top of her mouth. “It is not. The bagged stuff tastes like paper. Besides, there are pesticides-“

 

“I smoke half a pack a day, and drink more than I should,” he rolled his dark eyes. “I doubt the pesticides in a bag of tea are going to do me in.”

 

“And you have no lemon. I prefer lemon to sugar.”

 

“Noted,” he replied with a grin. He had a great longing to discover more about the daughter he’d been separated from for over a decade. He couldn’t get back the time that he’d lost, but he could be present and accounted for now.

 

“And you have this,” she pulled the _Aunt Jemima_ out of the fridge. “What the fuck is this shit?”

 

“Maple syrup.”

 

“No this is goop pretending to be Maple syrup. Look at the ingredients. There isn’t maple anything in there.”

 

His eyes narrowed. “You’re one of those health nuts, aren’t you?”

 

She raised her chin. “I just don’t think you should willingly put crap in your system. I made pancakes, and now I have to ruin them with lies!”

 

Fiona shuffled in, her hair all askew, and stared at her husband, and daughter with a smile. “Dear, you’re a little overdramatic for this time in the morning.”

 

Kerrianne rolled her eyes, and put the syrup on the counter. “I’d take mine with butter, but all you have is margarine, which might as well be plastic marketed as a healthy low-fat alternative because people are terrified of obesity.”

 

“But not of eating plastic?” He pulled a couple pancakes off the stack, and eyed his daughter even as he smothered them with Aunt Jemima.

 

Kerrianne frowned, and shook her head. “I’m taking over the grocery shopping around here. And the cooking.”

 

“Do you see me complaining?” Fiona asked.

 

“You will get no arguments from me either,” Chibs agreed. “But, how is it that you’re a health nut now, but at the diner you were burgers, and fries, and onion rings, which might as well be deep-fried death.”

 

She grinned. “I was hungry.” He laughed.

 

Eventually, the three of them settled with pancakes, a pile of crispy bacon, hash browns, and a couple of sunny side-up eggs. Fiona poured her husband’s tea, then her daughters, and then her own before setting down the teapot. She shot her daughter a smile. “It looks delicious, thank you.”

 

Chibs, who already had a mouthful of the most delicious, fluffy, buttery, syrupy pancakes gave his daughter a thumbs up, and she laughed, even with a proud expression on her face. She pointed to her own bottom lip, and his tongue flicked out to capture more maple syrup. “Where’d you learn to cook like this? Certainly not from your mother.”

 

“Hey!” Fiona gave him a light boot under the table. “I can cook just fine.”

 

“Sure you can, Love,” he placated quickly.

 

Kerrianne poked her food around the plate. “It’s just something I enjoy doing,” she replied, and then quickly stuffed a forkful of hash browns in her mouth.

 

He caught the avoidance, and turned to his wife, an eyebrow raised. Fiona sighed, not wanting to ruin a perfectly nice family dinner, but she also knew her husband wouldn’t let it go. Better to get it out in the open, and not let it fester, not let it become something bigger. “Unlike with other hobbies, Jimmy supported cooking. A woman in the kitchen, knowing her place, that sort of thing,” Fiona sighed. She looked to her daughter who had taken to staring at her plate. “Cain taught her when he was around.”

 

Chibs nodded, and although his appetite had pretty much gone out the window at the mention of Jimmy, he munched on a strip of bacon. “I see.”

 

“I do like it,” Kerrianne whispered, her voice nearly taken over by the sounds of passing cars through their open windows. “Don’t take it away just because he supported it.”

 

Fiona deflated. Chibs dropped his fork, and took his daughters hand. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I want more of these pancakes in the near future.”

 

She squeezed his hand, turned, and flashed him a pleased smile. “I assure you, there will be no shortage.” The family returned to their meal, until Kerrianne once again broke the silence. “I need clothes, and as comfortable as your couch is, a bed would be nice.”

Fiona smiled wickedly. “Yes, Filip, we need to go shopping. Today.”

 

Chibs nodded, he knew it was absolutely unavoidable, and with the dangers going around, he certainly wouldn’t be leaving them alone. “I know,” he replied, unable to keep the groan out of his voice. “I have to call Jax first, check in.” Really, he just wanted to make sure everything hadn’t gone to hell in a hand basket while he’d slept.

 

His girls started to talk about colour schemes before Kerrianne turns to him again. “Can I invite Trini, and Mo? They’ll need to go shopping too.”

 

Why not? He shrugged. “Sure. I’ll see about getting the van from Teller-Morrow.”

 

Fiona bit down on her bottom lip. “Teller-Morrow,” she repeated and caught her husband’s curious expression. She sighed. “I doubt I’ll be too popular around there.” The thought of her Filip under the hands of those sluts who hung around got her blood pressure skyrocketing. Nor did she get along with that controlling bitch, Gemma, although she expected that one to be much more difficult on Maureen.

 

“You’ll be fine,” Chibs assured. “It’s a full house.” He cleared his throat. “We kind of have a lot of shit going on right now.”

  
“Great,” Fiona pushed her hand through her wild curls, only to get snagged in a knot. “Dangerous kind of shit?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Just like home,” Kerrianne said with mock-cheer.

 

“We have an ex-marshal, Lee Toric, he’s bad news.” He poured himself some more bagged tea. “We believe Tara is his ultimate target, but he’s been fucking shit up along the way.”

 

“Tara? That’s Jackson’s old lady, right?” Fiona asked.

 

“Aye,” Chibs nodded. “Toric recently killed a judge who was talking to our lawyer, they were looking for information on Toric for the club.”

 

“Jesus.”

 

“One of our businesses, Diosa, recently got hit bad. Financially. It’s barely staying afloat, and we haven’t yet figured out where the money is going.”

 

“Are you saying go easy on the shopping trip?”

 

“I’m saying that you’ll be staying close to a patched member until this shit with Toric is sorted. Me preferably, but if I’m not around, you’ll both either be at the clubhouse under lockdown, or out with a patch. I want you both to be able to make a home here, but this guy isn’t firing warning shots. From what I heard from Tig, what he did to the judge,” his stony expression said more than words could, and both girls put down their utensils. “All Hap said was ‘it was fucked up,’ Hap said that.”

 

“The bald one with the dead eyes?” Kerrianne raised an eyebrow.

 

Chibs figured that was a pretty fair way for a young woman to describe Happy. He nodded. “So, until this shit is sorted-“

 

“We stay with a patch, or in the safety of the clubhouse,” Fiona finished. “We understand.” Her eyes flashed at Kerrianne in warning, although, it was unnecessary.

 

“Patch or clubhouse,” she shrugged. Years of living with the IRA made her understand, at least now, she’d be with her Da. “Got it.”

 

::

 

Nero sat in his private room at Diosa. The numbers weren’t good. His son was taken care of, but financially, he was tapped. Diosa would be shutting its doors in a matter of days if things didn’t smooth out immediately. The strong scent of coffee mixed with the mysterious perfume his woman wore. Her arm reached around, and placed a coffee carefully above his papers. He could feel the swells of her breasts against his shoulder.

 

“Looks like you could use a break,” she said. Her fingers worked into the knots in his shoulders. “Relax. It’ll work out.”

 

“Gem, it’s not going to just work out.” But the feel of her hands was working wonders for the tension he held. “Diosa is in the red. Very in the red. We have a couple days, max.”

 

“I’ll talk to the boys-“

 

“They’ve already put in money. A lot of money. It just keeps getting drained. We should have pulled out-“

 

“And let whoever the fuck get away with it?” she snapped.

 

“No, not get away with it,” he replied as he stood. His hands went to her hips, and he found himself steadying in her presence. “But to staunch our own bleeding pockets.”

 

“We both know that would have killed any leads. You got that tart,” the name momentarily eluded her, “the blonde one, Rane’s girl, working for you. Hasn’t she come up with something?”

 

“Yeah, but it isn’t enough of something,” he shrugged. “These guys are smart, probably already well financed.”

 

Gemma found herself out of words of comfort, and so she switched tactics. Her lips brushed along his collarbone, kissed their way up his neck. She felt his hands clench on her hips right before he pulled her closer.

 

“My coffee is going to go cold,” he complained weakly.

 

She laughed. “Well, by all means,” she backed away, and then hooked her fingertips under her shirt. “Have coffee.” Her shirt ended up on the floor a moment later. “I can take care of myself.”

He laughed, and then he was on her, and they were both laughing as they tumbled onto the bed.

 

::

 

Chibs, and Juice stood shoulder to shoulder in solidarity as they were lead through Beautiful Beds. Kerrianne, Fiona, Trinity, and Maureen all considered the pros and cons of pretty much every twin sized bed that would fit in that tiny room Chibs had.

 

‘Oh, this dark one is so nice, very modern, but it’ll collect, and show dust.’

‘White iron is cute.’ ‘It’s for a little girl’s room, Ma!’

‘What about the pink-‘ ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ ‘Language!’

‘Four poster?’ ‘It’ll make the room seem even smaller, don’t you think?’

‘Race car?’ ‘You guys are assholes.’

“This loft bed has a desk underneath.’ ‘I’m a little old for a glorified bunk bed.’

 

They ended up choosing a maple wood bed, the headboard doubling as a small bookshelf, and there were six drawers underneath, which with the closet in the room, would cancel any need for a bulky dresser. Chibs felt a little weight leave his shoulder at the decision.

 

“Now what kind of sheets?” Fiona asked, leading the way.

 

“What fresh hell is this?” Juice asked with a kind of wonderment.

 

“Welcome to the Special Hell of Women’s Shopping, Lad.” He gave the younger man a friendly push. “Enjoy your stay. You’ll be here a while.”

 

Luckily for the men, Kerrianne was much easier to please when it came to sheets- cotton with blue, and grey stripes. They picked up the matching comforter, and headed for the checkout. “Hey Da,” Kerrianne drew his attention while they stood in line. “Can I paint my room?”

 

“Sure,” he replied easily. He wants her to start making his home, hers. “Just don’t let your Ma help, okay?”

 

Kerrianne laughed. “Trust me, I know.”

 

::

Jax had been up since four in the morning, and had chain-smoked his way through half a pack. He had his phone up to his ear, and was talking to one of the remaining SAMBEL men.

 

 _“Aye, Seamus, and Ol’ Rusty were taken in for questioning_ ,” Murphy told him. _“The cops got some evidence pointin’ to us. An SOA ring. Scrum’s brother’s. Scrum is one crafty bastard. He wanted the IRA to know just why a king and his son was killed. That prospect, his brother, he woulda made it. Everyone loved him. Crazy little shit.”_

 

“You think Scrum is still alive?”

 

_“I wouldn’t doubt it. Like I said, he’s a crafty bastard. I reckon once the heat dies down, he’ll return to us. I figure he’s got a problem with Seamus being in charge.”_

 

“Why’s that?”

 

_“Seamus likes to do things safe, backs down when Scrum thinks he shouldn’t.”_

 

“And what do you think?” Jax asked.

 

_“I think that before the clubhouse got blown to shit, and half of our brothers died, we had a lot of split decisions at our table. Now, Scrum ain’t asking for no fucking bullshit vote, he’s doing something about our problems. We’ll work our own shit out with the IRA. We’re tapping friends from another MC in Derry, and another in Dublin. They too have been screwed over by the IRA, wouldn’t mind doing something about it.”_

 

“Thought you North Ireland guys weren’t too fond of the others?”

 

 _“Religious beliefs, and underlying bullshit were more our problems than what side of our little green slice they come from,”_ Murphy replied. _“Me, I don’t give a fuck so long as my brother’s keep breathing. We need numbers, we have friends willing to help, we’ll manage.”_

 

“Keep me posted, Murphy.” He hung up his phone, dropped it on the table, and tapped his cigarette on the side of the ashtray.

 

He looked up to find his beautifully dishevelled wife. Suddenly, the world tilted back into place, became crisp, and clear, and beautiful. “Good morning, Beautiful.” He stood, drawn to her like a moth to the flame. His lips brushed lightly against hers, and then more aggressively until he heard her whimper, her fingers locking behind his neck. He pulled back, and looked into her exhausted eyes. He knows that lockdown is never easy, but with two kids, he can’t even imagine. “Take a seat, I’ll make breakfast.”

 

The dazed little smile on her face does something silly to his heart. “That might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

 

That signature smirk of his curved his lips before he closed the space between them. He craved her sweetness as much as he needed her strength. Those sweet kisses exchanged turned heated, her back pressed against the fridge, and his hand pulled the loosely tied belt of her robe. Since they had children, one of whom liked to jump into their bed in the morning, she had a tank-top on underneath along with a pair of little black shorts. His hands smoothed over the curves of her body even as his mouth remained busy with hers.

 

His lips skimmed over her neck, he sucked, and left her with a hickey. He smiled as he admired his work.

 

“Jesus, Jax,” Tara reprimanded half-heartedly. “Everyone is going to see that!”

 

He chuckled. “That’s kind of the point.” His hands skimmed up her sides, and cupped her breasts. She bit her bottom lip as his hands continued to work her over. His lips joined in, kissing, nipping at her neck, her collarbone, her shoulder. His tongue trailed over the curve of her breast and her hand fisted in his hair. He cupped her sex, felt her damp through the shorts. “Tara,” the name came off as a groan. He pulled the shorts right off, picked her up, and dropped her down on the countertop.

 

She blinked, and stared, as if not entirely sure how she ended up with her bottoms off, and on a countertop. “Jax? We can’t. Not here. The kids.”

 

“Shh,” he insisted. “Just stay quiet.”

 

“Jax,” her tone switched to a warning.

 

Two fingers slipped inside of her, finding her hot, wet, and ready. “Yeah, Tara?” he asked bending slightly, his tongue lapped at her intimately.

 

“Oh yes!” Her fingers clenched on the countertop. “Just hurry, before Abel wakes!” But he didn’t change positions, he just continued fingering her, his tongue flicking against her clit. “Jackson!” Her hands gripped his hair, and for a second she wasn’t sure if she wanted to hold him there or pull him back. As much as she loved what he was doing, he would have her screaming if he kept it up, and this was not the image she wanted for her sons. She pulled him away.

  
He had that same arrogant smirk on his face, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “Couldn’t help myself,” he told her pulling his fingers out. “You taste so fucking good.”

 

The dirty talk always made her blush, and she redirected her attention to getting the button and zipper of his jeans undone. “Hurry,” she insisted, her eyes turning to the clock. Abel usually didn’t get up for at least another hour and a half, but as any parent would know, when you want them to stay in bed, they’ll be up early. She grabbed him, enjoying the feel of him in her hands, and knowing it will feel even better buried deep inside. Her legs wrapped around him, drawing him closer. “Hurry.”

 

“I don’t need to be told twice.” And then they were joined, wrapped up in each other’s arms, her legs tightening around him, minimizing his ability to move.

 

His hips kept a steady rhythm, even as his forehead rested against hers. Their eyes remained locked. Panted breaths were exchanged. Her nails dug into the back of his neck, and her teeth bit into her lower lip. He grabbed her hips, and pulled her to the very edge, the change had them both moaning.

 

His lips claimed hers, hoping to keep her quiet, as he knew her tells, knew her body, and knew it wouldn’t be long before she chased her bliss. She gave as good as she got, her hands threaded through his hair desperately trying to get him closer. And together, in the kitchen of the house they’d made their home, they fell into each other’s arms as the pleasure overtook them.

 

::

 

When Tig’s phone goes off, it sounds like an alarm. That’s the cheap beer he drank the night before talking. Groggily, he reached out and grabbed the phone, not bothering to look at the number on display. “’Ello?”

 

“Who the fuck did you piss off?” An irritable voice asked. Familiar, and yet, his mind is still half asleep, and entirely hung over, he can’t quite place it.

 

“Who’s this?” he asked, sitting up, and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

 

_“Fawn. Your daughter, in case you forgot.”_

 

Suddenly, the fog over his mind lifted. “Fawnsy?”

  
 _“Who did you piss off, Dad?”_

  
His heart twisted, and a second later, he knew why. She sounded fucking terrified. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

 

 _“I’m fine, I’m at home. I’ve got these pictures of me, a few of me with Isaiah. That would be my boyfriend. Yes the one you walked in on me having sex with,”_ her tone remained distant, snooty, but never lost that edge of fear. _“There is one of Isaiah and I walking hand in hand. On the back it reads_ ‘Now I lay thee down to sleep,’ _seriously, that is creepy as all fuck.”_

 

“Any chance your boyfriend pissed someone off?”

 

 _“Why, because he’s black?”_ Anger came over the line, and it almost hid the fear. _“No. Dad, he’s a nurse. He works at a clinic. He has no gang affiliation.”_

 

“A nurse?”

 

_“Don’t start your sexist shit with me! Yes, he’s a nurse. He’s a good man, with a good job, he loves me, he takes care of me, which is more than you ever did!”_

“I tried.”

 

 _“And look where that got Dawn!”_ Her voice broke, and he heard her crying. _“I’m sorry,”_ she choked out. _“I’m sorry. I’m scared, Daddy. I’m telling you, this has nothing to do with Isaiah.”_

 

“Could someone be stalking you?”

 

 _“I don’t think so,”_ Fawn replied.

 

Tig figured his daughter’s gut reaction was right. This had something to do with the club. Toric? That didn’t fit in Tig’s mind. So who? The Diosa problem hadn’t become violent, just financially crippling. Regardless, he wanted his daughter safe. “Come to Charming. I can keep you safe.” The words left his mouth, a terrible taste remained. After all, he hadn’t been able to keep Dawn safe. “Just get in your car, and drive straight here.”

 

_“I can’t leave without Isaiah.”_

 

“Get in your car, Fawn,” he ordered, terrified of losing another daughter. “Just get in the car. Lock the doors. Pick your boyfriend up on the way. Just… please, Fawn. I need to see you. I need to know you’re safe.” The silence ate at his soul. “Fawn?”

 

_“Yeah, I’m here. I’ll head to the clinic. Stay with Isaiah until the end of his shift. I’ll call you back after he’s done.”_

 

“You’re coming to Charming.”

 

_“Let me think about it. Let me talk to him.”_

 

He could still hear the fear in her voice. No doubt, she too felt haunted by the way Dawn had left this world. She’d died, and it had been his fault. He didn’t blame Fawn for not being able to trust him to keep her safe.

 

_“I’ll call you back, okay, Dad.”_

  
“I love you, Fawn.”

 

_“Um… yeah. You too.”_

 

Tig hung up his phone, and set it down carefully on the table beside the bed. With his head in his hands, he wondered just how he managed to fuck up so royally with his kids.

 

::

 

The Mall. A natural habitat of women, while men feel the need to sit down in a plush chair, and take a nap, while his wife/girlfriend/daughter/granddaughter/female in his life, spends his money. The two Sons stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the regular mall goers. They had to ignore those plush seats, and stick with their charges.

 

The women all stood in front of a map. One that all woman can manage to read (but they can’t navigate via road map to their fucking grandma’s house) and begin to argue over what shops to go to.

 

“That sounds like an old lady store!” Trinity scoffed at her mother.

 

“There is one back home, it sells nice things,” Maureen replied.

 

Trinity, and Kerrianne share a long suffering look. “Why don’t we split up,” Kerrianne suggests. “You two can go to your more… refined stores.”

 

“Nice,” Trinity whispered.

 

“And we can go to our… ah…”

 

“Youthful?” Trinity suggested.

 

“Not the word I wanted to use,” Kerrianne hissed.

 

“Yes it is,” Fiona replied. “Your young hip stores for people half my age. That is where you two want to go.” She turned to her husband. “Juice can go with Kerri and Trin, you can stick with Mo and me. I saw a wonderful dress on the way in. I want to try it on.”

 

He had noticed her slow as she looked. The bold red dress looked form-fitting, and sexy on the mannequin. He’d agree to pretty much anything to see his wife in it. He looked to Juice. “Take good care of them.”

 

“Of course,” Juice replied, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Ladies, where to?”

 

Kerrianne smiled. “Oh we’ll start with shoes and build our wardrobes from there. Dad, I’ll need money.”

 

He sighed, handed over his card. Maureen pulled a couple of bills, and handed it to Trinity. “Spend wisely,” she told them as the group of three walked off.

 

Chibs found that both Maureen, and Fiona were efficient, and frugal shoppers. They moved swiftly through the store while he tailed after his wife, not feeling comfortable enough to just stand by a rack of women’s clothes while they do their thing. She found the red dress, pulled if off the rack and held it in front of her. “What do you think?”

 

His heart rate nearly doubles as he envisioned her in it. It’s the kind of thing that would make her both fit in, and stand out on a Friday night at the clubhouse. Sexy, and sinful, and as much as he wanted to see her in it, he liked the mental image of it pooled around her feet. Instead of saying any such thing, he nodded.

 

She smiled. “I’ll just try it on, make sure it’s a good fit.” Her hand grabbed the tag, and turned it. Her breath catches. “You know, maybe red isn’t really my colour.”

 

“It’s so fucking your colour,” he growled irritably.

 

“Filip, it’s expensive.”  


“I don’t give a shit. Put it on.”

 

She blinked a few times, and then smiled. “Alright.” She turned, and walked toward the change room with a teasing sway of her hips.

 

::

 

Juice ended up as the pack-mule. In his right hand he had Kerrianne’s bags, in his left, Trinity’s. Both girls had purchased a new pair of shoes, three pairs of jeans (one black, one dark blue, one light blue), a set of pajamas, a pack of socks, four t-shirts, and one sweater. Juice wondered if there was some kind of girly math to it all.

 

The two young women stopped, and turned. “Oh, come on,” Juice called after them. “Really?”

 

“Da said you had to stick with us,” Kerrianne insisted. She reached back, and grabbed the front of his t-shirt to reel him in. “We need bras, and panties.”

 

He swallowed hard, and started thinking of calculus as he followed them in. He tried, valiantly to keep his eyes averted, but there was nothing not sexualized in the store. Bras lined the walls. Boyshorts, bikinis, hipsters, thongs, and g-strings were all laid out in various colours. The mannequins wore corsets, babydolls, and garments that were designed for sexual play rather than everyday use.

 

“Juice?” He turned to the sound of Kerrianne’s voice and found her holding up a little blue g-string. “What do you think?” Trinity burst out laughing, and Kerrianne joined in.

 

His eyes narrowed, and he tried focusing on the money he didn’t have that he owed Oswald. It didn’t really help, his imagination really didn’t need the boost. “You two are cruel.” His phone went off, and he checked the text. “The others are done. Grab what you need, let’s go.”

 

“Lame,” Trinity stalked off to look at the bras.

 

Kerrianne walked over to Juice. “Juice?”

 

“Yeah?” the word came out more like a sigh.

 

“Thanks for today, a lot of stuff has been going down, and… well a normal day of shopping has been really good. So, you know, thanks.”

 

He grinned. “You’re welcome. Now hurry up.”

 

She held up the g-string by her finger. “Three for ten sale.” She turned on her heel, and continued her shopping.

 

Juice ignored the dirty look another shopper was sending him, and kept his eyes on the two women he’d come with. Still, he couldn’t rid himself of that mental image of Kerrianne with that little blue g-string.


	44. Lighting Matches

Clear blue skies promised another beautiful day in Charming, California. The temperature hovered pleasantly in the mid-seventies. Jax finished buckling Thomas into the car seat. The little boy smiled, and hugged his stuffed lion. The toy had been purchased by Tara for him when she'd taken the boys to the zoo, an outing that had taken place months earlier that Jax had missed.

The SAMCRO President turned around, and thanked god for warm days. "Nice legs," he looked his wife over appreciatively. The balmy weather had prompted her to take out her little denim cut-off shorts. She rolled her eyes and pushed past him to pass Abel the juice box she'd gone back in the house for. Jax stared at his wife's back, while her white button-up was opaque in the front, it was translucent in the back and he could clearly see the crow tattoo flying just above the top of her shorts.

She looked over her shoulder and smiled. "Ready to go?" she asked as she stood back up.

"Just make sure to keep me in the rear view," he replied as he closed the space between them. His hands threaded through her short hair as he studied the delicate shape of her lips. With everything that had been going on for the past few days, he worried about her. Soon, things would be safe for her and their boys. He would make sure of it. His thumb traced over her bottom lip. "I love you."

"I love you too, Jax." She stood on her toes to quickly kiss him.

"Ew!" Abel giggled from in the car. "Kissy faces." Tara smiled at Jax before ducking into the backseat of the car, leaning over Thomas to pepper Abel's cheek with kisses. "Ew! Mom!" He laughed. "Stop, stop! Dad! Help! Kissy faces!"

Tara laughed. "I love you, Abel."

"Love you, Mom," the boy replied as if it was a great burden to say so.

She scooted back out, not before dropping a couple kisses on Thomas (who bore this attention with great patience,) and found herself back in her husband's arms. "You know," he said, in that slow sexy drawl of his. "I don't mind your kissy faces."

"No, you don't," she replied, lowering her voice. "You sure didn't mind them this morning."

In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to unbuckle his boys and bring his family back indoors. He wanted the day, just one fucking day of no club bullshit, just one full day with his family. _Soon_. Once he ensured that Toric would not be able to cause harm to his wife, sons, or brothers, then he could have a day away from it all.

He kissed Tara once more before backing away. "Remember-"

"Keep you in the rear view!" Tara opened the door to her vehicle. "I know the drill, Jax."

He smirked as he mounted his bike. "You sure do, Darlin'," he whispered to himself.

::

Much like Jax, Chibs too would have rather stayed home with his family. Instead, he knew as the VP who had been MIA for the past few days, he needed to be front and center, bright and early. His wife had driven ahead of him in his piece of shit Buick that might just be older than Kerrianne. He only kept the damn thing because it was convenient for groceries. Fiona drove right in to the lot that was under lockdown thanks to Juice who'd been smoking with one of the Tacoma brothers near the gate.

Juice jogged over as Fiona and Kerrianne got out of the Buick. "Jesus, that thing sounds like fucking shit." He looked over to Chibs who'd made his way over. "And you call yourself a mechanic." Chibs just shook his head and gave the lad a one handed push. Juice just laughed.

"Did you bring Trin and Mo?" Kerrianne asked Juice.

"Yeah," he pointed to the picnic table. "They're with Quinn."

"Come on," Chibs put his arm around his wife, and the other around his daughter. "I'll introduce you." As he walked over, his eyes met Quinn's, and the big man stood.

"Chibs! Good to see you, brother." The former Nomad President welcomed him with open arms, and Chibs left his girls for a second to receive the welcome home hug. "These must be your girls. Fiona, and Kerrianne, right?"

Fiona beamed. "Aye, that's right. Jesus, Filip, just what story did you tell that was so memorable?"

"I believe I heard a story about Kerrianne and birthday cake. I have daughters, I understand." A mischievous grin stretched upon his face. "And Fiona, Fiona, I believe there was nudity involved." This got a laugh from the younger crowd, while Fiona glared at her husband.

"Oh Christ," Tink returned with beers having heard her husband's comment. She passed a beer to each Maureen and Trinity, before passing a water to her husband. She flashed Fiona an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry about him. He thinks he's funny. I shouldn't leave him unattended."

Quinn shook his head, and pulled his wife in with one large arm. "You're lucky I love you, otherwise I'd fix that smart mouth."

She smiled wickedly up at him. "But how you love this mouth."

"So true." He shifted. "Oh yeah, introductions. Tink, this is Chibs, his wife, Fiona, and his daughter, Kerrianne. Everyone, my wife, Tink."

Fiona immediately took a liking to Quinn, if for no other reason than that he had called her and Tink wives rather than Old Ladies. Besides that, there was more than lust between the big man and the tiny woman, there was an adoration for one another that was easy to see, and even, Fiona believed, respect that went both ways. "Tink, that's an interesting name," Fiona remarked.

"Nickname," Tink explained. "The bank, the taxman, and police officers still call me Allison."

Fiona managed a tight smile, as her nerves about meeting these friends of her husband eased, and the worry about being here at the garage settled in. She took a cursory look around. Chibs noticed his wife's nervous stance, he stepped close, and dropped his voice. "What is it?"

"I'm just," she sighed, hating to admit it, "keeping an eye out for Gemma."

"She's not here," Tink said and then put her hands up. "Sorry, I just overheard. She's at Diosa." She turned to her husband. "Which reminds me, Rane, I'm going over there."

Quinn leveled her with a dry look. "You think so, huh?"

Tink shrugged. "I want to check on her, she's in a tough spot."

Quinn let out a sigh. Of course he married a fucking bleeding heart. "You're just going to make my life hell if I say no, aren't you?"

"You know me so well," Tink replied with a big grin. "Besides, while I'm there, I'd like to check on our girl."

He frowned, his daughter another fucking bleeding heart- one that he couldn't protect from the hard realities of the life. "How do you think she's doing with all this?"

"Honestly, I don't know." Her hands flattened on his chest taking in the comforting feel of the worn leather. Indiana could wear masks, and lie as good as the rest of them when there was a need to. "I want to know she's okay."

"Alright. But you wait until I find you suitable protection," Quinn relented. If Tink only wanted to go see Gemma he might not have let her, but he too worried about Indiana. "Jax called me for Church, otherwise I'd take you myself." Tink nodded in understanding, and watched as Tara's vehicle, followed by Jax's motorcycle, drove onto the lot.

Trinity felt sick with nerves. She watched from her spot at the picnic table as her half-brother took off his helmet. To this day, she found it difficult to believe that John Teller had been her father, that she had a half-brother, a sister-in-law, and two nephews. She had only her mother and her Uncle Kellan growing up, and while she'd lost her uncle, she'd gained her brother and his family at the same time. It was a lot to process.

Her mother's hand squeezed her own. "Are you okay?"

Trinity turned to her mother, bit her lip, and then shrugged. The family situation was an odd one. Not to mention that one embarrassing time she and Jax had made out in the back of Ashby's Provisions before they found out they were related. Luckily, their mothers had stopped them before it got too far. Still, hands down the most mortifying moment of her life.

She stood watching as Jax caught Abel, who'd been running for the little playground, and redirected him toward the table. Tara had shouldered the baby bag, and carried Thomas in the car seat.

Jax stood with Abel to his right, his wife with Thomas to his left. "Trinity."

"Jackson," she nodded, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. She didn't know what to do. There isn't an instruction manual to their kind of situation.

While Trinity overanalyzed, Jax did what came naturally with his brothers who weren't even actually related- he pulled her in for a tight hug. "You whole?"

She swallowed hard. Whole? No. She felt off balance since those men had come into Ashby's Provisions and murdered Cherry. She buried the memory and pulled back. "Aye, I'm fine."

Jax nodded and pulled his eldest son close, the boy tipped his head back and grinned real big. "Dad, I want to play!"

"In a minute," he shot Trinity a reassuring smile. "Abel, this is your Aunt Trinity."

Trinity stared in awe of the little boy before waving at him. He hid his face against his dad's leg coyly, he turned with a sly grin, and waved back. Oh, he'd be quite the heartbreaker when he got older, she just knew it. "Hi Abel." She found sentimental tears welling in her eyes. "Wow, you've grown so big! Last time I saw you, you were just a wee babe!" She turned her eyes to Tara, and she managed a friendly smile. "You must be Tara."

Tara smiled at the younger woman. "I am, and this is Thomas."

Trinity stepped closer so she could get a better look. "Wow, he's beautiful." She looked at Tara, and then back at the baby. "He looks like you."

Tara grinned. "Thank you."

"Dad, can Aunt Tin-tinny play?" Abel asked.

"Trin-it-y," Jax said slowly, hoping the boy would get the pronunciation.

"Tin-tinny!"

Trinity didn't mind a nickname from her nephew. "Sure, I'd love to play. Would you like me to push you on the swings?"

"Yes!" he grabbed her hand and gave her a pull. "Come on!"

Trinity reached out and grabbed Kerrianne, who waved at her parents as she was dragged away.

Jax returned his attention to the club members. "Everyone here?"

"Tig left," Quinn said. "His kid called, he's meeting with her."

"Fawn?" Jax stared in shock. "Didn't see that coming."

"He said he'd be back as soon as he could," Quinn continued. "Hap's out at Diosa, said it was his turn, and to call if he was needed."

The SAMCRO President nodded and considered the fact that two of his toughest enforcers were off premises. Both would take orders and follow them though, and they could easily proxy in their votes, or drive across town if need be. Really, this was more about bringing Chibs and Juice back into the fold, and getting their intelligence officer back to work. "We should get to business. We can catch Tig, and Hap up later."

::

Lyla created a new appointment on the computer, and hit save right before the power went out. She sat a little straighter, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dark. The luxurious drapes were closed over the windows and barely let a sliver of light through. The only sounds were voices now that the soft music and the hum of the computer had died.

When the power didn't return after a full minute, she looked around for her cell phone, and used its screen to illuminate a small area. With the dim light guiding the way, she managed to cross the room without bumping into anything or anyone, and open the drapes. She turned only to run into someone. Alarm slammed into her only to be immediately soothed by recognition.

"Nero says the bill is paid," Primo said softly. "He's going to check the breaker."

She nodded, although she had initially thought of the electrical bill, and Diosa's current financial woes. She didn't know what she'd do if they had to close shop. She had just enough to cover the essentials this month, and a two credit cards that were near their max. Who knew how long it would take for the insurance company to come through on her claim, and until then, she still had to make sure her kids had a place to sleep. The cabin worked for now but it wasn't a permanent solution. And really, neither was that little house they lived in. As she fretted over finances, the lights came back on. She managed a tight-lipped smile. "Let there be light."

She returned to her desk as the music restarted, and the regular chatter returned. With the computer booting back up, she took the time to clear the little bit of clutter on her desk. Nero walked in, and looked over her shoulder. "Is the computer okay?"

Lyla signed in, and then double checked their log book. She shot him a grin. "Looks fine to me. I had already saved the last appointment, so nothing was lost."

"Good," Nero replied. "It was only the one breaker so the power was out on this side of the building only. This computer, mine, and Indiana's were the only one's hit."

"I don't think Indiana is in yet," Lyla said, glancing at the clock. "Another half-hour till her usual arrival."

"No, so she wouldn't have lost anything." He smiled, thankful that at least nothing had been lost. "I guess we dodged a bullet there." She smiled back and nodded. The phone rang and she playfully waved him off before answering.

The brief power disruption was completely forgotten.

::

Happy noticed Indiana the second she walked in the front door, and alarm bells immediately went off in his head. He studied her, trying to figure out what caused the sudden spike of adrenaline to hit his system. Her blonde hair had been braided straight down the middle. Those big blue eyes were accented with liner and mascara. For Happy, all this did was draw his attention to that wild, hunted look in her eyes- the first thing that had put him on edge. He continued his appraisal, a white v-neck t-shirt, partially covered by an unbuttoned navy blazer- and he didn't know if she owned a shoulder rig, but by her stance, and how she pulled the blazer closer, he figured she had a gun hidden under there. A messenger bag hung off one shoulder. Her trousers matched the colour of her blazer, a thin, gold belt kept the attention on her tiny hips. On her feet, she wore black running shoes.

He knew women well enough to know they didn't dress in a suit just to wear fucking running shoes. Indiana might be absent-minded enough to have slipped them on in habit, or in a hurry. He also found it conceivable that, being a fashion train-wreck since she started choosing her own clothing, maybe she thought it was okay. He wanted to believe it, because the other option (and the one he found more likely) was that, that look in her eyes, that gun within grasp, and those shoes on her feet added up to her being in danger.

Coming to this conclusion took him only a few seconds. He stepped away from the wall, and blocked her off before she could get very far. "Indiana." She looked up at him, and then glanced around the room. Impatience hit him, and he grabbed her arm, drawing her attention back to him. "Indiana. What's wrong?"

She swallowed hard, her cheeks flushed, she shook her head. "Nothing."

He deliberately stepped into her personal space and kept his eyes locked onto her. Being so close he could feel the warmth of her body and catch the scent of her perfume. "How long have I known you?" he asked, his voice low. "You really think you can lie to me?" She remained quiet; he grabbed her other arm, and pulled her until not so much as a piece of paper could be wedged between them. She remained stubbornly silent. He could feel it now, the solid grip of her gun pressed against his chest that in no way could be confused with the softness of her small breasts. The gun worn on her person sealed it. Something had happened, something had scared her and done so badly. He knew she avoided taking her gun, or if she had it, it usually wasn't loaded. "Who did you call when you were in trouble?" he asked her. "Who came, and never told a soul?"

Her breath hitched on the exhale. She tore her eyes away, and pointedly looked around. He saw it too. They'd become the center of attention. "My office," she whispered.

He nodded, and kept a hand on her arm while he walked with her through the main area of Diosa. Indiana's hands trembled as she went through the bag until she found her key card. Once unlocked, she led him inside, and shut the door behind them. He wasted no time. "What's going on?"

Indiana put the messenger bag down on the clean desk. Her fingers rubbed the bridge of her nose as she turned to face him, and leaned back against the desk. She paused a moment and looked over her shoulder. Her papers were gone. All of her work. Nero? More pressing worries clawed their way back to the forefront of her mind. "You seriously can't tell my Dad about this. Or any of your brothers." She dropped her hands to her sides. "If I tell you something, it stays between us."

"It stays between us," he agreed, " _unless_ it becomes relevant to the club."

She sighed, but nodded, knowing that would be the best deal he'd offer. "Come here. You need to see something." He watched her twist at the hips, flip open her bag, and pull out a manila folder. He walked over and took it when she held it out to him. "This was in a box at my front door this morning. No postage, so it was hand delivered, the lack of any watermark on the back makes me think it was produced on someone's home printer."

He stared at the first. Some stalker-ish snap of him with Indiana. The second and the third were the same. All taken in the Diosa parking lot on the same night. In those pictures, they didn't look like friends, it was as if the camera had stripped away all the pretense, all the masks, and left them bare. No, he had no intention of telling Rane Quinn about these. The next had her jogging through town, the one after that caught that ugly ass car she drove pulling into Teller-Morrow.

"Wait," her hand shot out, but he'd already flipped to the last photograph. "Shit," she muttered. She hadn't wanted him to see that last one, but her mind was a mess. She heard his teeth grind together, and saw the muscle in his jaw jump with how tightly he had his teeth clenched.

"This fucker was in your house," he growled, his blood-pressure spiking as an unrivalled rage boiled within. "While you were sleeping. You were fucking defenseless." He slammed his fists down over the photographs hard enough to make the desk lamp rattle. Dark eyes turned on her. "When was this taken?"

She couldn't meet his gaze. "Last night."

"Jesus Christ, Indiana!"

"I know, I know!" Her voice rose to meet the level of his. She threw her hands up in the air. "I know, okay? Dad wanted me sleeping at the clubhouse, and I refused, but," she ran both hands over her face. "Dammit! I'd spend my whole life in one room if I let him tuck me away every time the club got itself in a bit of trouble."

He paced a few steps away, trying to reign in his temper. "You slept through it?"

"Yeah," she replied. "I took a couple of sleeping pills." She held up her hand. "And don't give me a lecture on that either. I needed the rest-"

 _Sleeping pills_. He could strangle her for her stupidity. "Then you should have done it under protection," he shouted.

"I know," she replied, sounding so incredibly small.

The rage could wait, it wouldn't be going anywhere for a long time, her fears however were intolerable. It pissed him off even more that someone had deliberately set out to make her feel unsafe where she currently resided. He spent years watching out for the woman in front of him, she'd tugged on his heart from the moment she'd taken his hand and insisted she join him for milk and cookies. Above his anger was the fierce desire to keep her safe. Absentmindedly, his thumb ran over the first smiley faced tattoo, the one he'd gotten after he killed the teacher who'd molested her, the one he'd gotten after she'd drawn the image in crayon, just for him- the 'thank you' of a child.

He pulled her against him, her hands flattened on his chest, and she stared up at him with eyes full of uncertainly. "I've got you." Her lower lip quivered, and that one stupid reaction tore through him. When he found who did this, he would fucking gut the bastard.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, her cheek brushed against his. "Oh, Hap."

He felt her tremble, and he tightened his arms around her. More than anything, he wanted to keep her there, safe in his arms. Thinking of her security, he thought out-loud. "You should get a dog."

"What?" she asked, confused by the sudden change of topic.

"A dog. For protection," he explained, already planning to take her to the pound, and finding the biggest, meanest motherfucker. "A dog would have barked at an intruder."

She laughed, a little bitterly. "My life is a fucking mess. I couldn't take care of a dog. I don't even know where I'm going to be living a week from now."

The thought of her leaving, returning to Red Willow- or who knows, going off wherever- just the thought of her leaving Charming, of not seeing her regularly, crushed something within him. He wanted her here. Or maybe he just wanted her. He tried to focus. "Did those pictures come with a note?"

"Yeah," she replied, easing back just enough to run her hands over the SAA patch. "Tell no one. Back off." She looked up at him. "I wasn't going to tell anyone, but… you're in those pictures too, Hap. You need to be careful. I-" she trailed off, her eyes stared at the colours of the tattoos she could see through his white shirt. Despite not being able to see it, she still traced over where she knew 'I live, I die, I kill, for my family' was written. "I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you."

Obviously, someone had been keeping a very good eye on Indiana Quinn, and yet, here she stood, braving the threat and telling him because she worried about _him_. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and yet they stared up at him, almost defiant toward the obvious danger those photos presented. He gave no warning, didn't really have any himself. His lips crashed against hers, his hands molded along the sculpture of her back, pulling her flush against his body. His heart scrambled to keep up with the intensity of his hunger, even as he lost a bit of himself to her.

Her hands ran down the front of his kutte, and back up, over his shoulders, and locked around his neck. She could hardly keep up with the urgency in which he kissed her, the same urgency mirrored in her. She had a horrible feeling, like this kiss was the end of something, and so she held on, wishing for it to never end. Their noses brushed, and she quickly closed the space between their lips. Nails raked down the back of his neck, and even as their lips remained busy, she felt a sob stirring in the back of her throat.

His hand wrapped around the braided rope of her flaxen hair and pulled. She gasped, her head tipping back, and exposing the long line of her neck to him. Hungry kisses along her throat were highlighted with the rough scraping of his stubble.

The bothersome tone of his phone demanded to be answered. "Fuck!" Happy pulled away, and removed the phone from his pocket. "Yeah? What?" As he listened, he felt as though his stomach had been filled with stones. During the brief moment with Indiana, he'd felt weightless, invincible, now the information being relayed in his ear made him acknowledge his own mortality and the gravity of the situation once again.

Although not sure who spoke on the other end of the phone, or what the topic was, Indiana knew with absolute certainty that something horrible had happened. Happy's annoyance at being interrupted had disappeared behind the mask of absolute focus that usually preluded someone (at the very least) getting severely fucked up.

"Do you want me to bring Indiana in?" He waited and then nodded. "Fine. I'll be at the clubhouse in twenty," he said before hanging up the phone.

"What happened?" Indiana asked, unsure if he would even respond.

"You're to stay here." With a need to touch her, he put his hands on the sides of her neck. He could feel the steady beat of her pulse under his thumb. "Tink is coming here, they figure with all the Byz Latz around it should be just as safe as the clubhouse- safer if this is Toric."

"If what is?"

"Your father received a text message from Herb." He felt her pulse jump under his thumb, and he wished he didn't have to relay the news. She'd hear it eventually, and he'd rather she be prepared.

"What did it say?" Her hand fisted by her heart. Ever since the accident, Herbert had to walk with a cane and would be an easy target for anyone wanting to send the Sons a message.

"Same shit that guy threatened Tink with, 'Sons are going to pay and they are going to grieve,' he's up in Bakersfield. A couple of us are going up to see what's what."

She felt as though she'd been thrown in a raging river and was floundering to simply stay afloat. Searching for balance, she gripped his kutte. "Did anyone try calling back?"

"No answer," he replied taking a step back. "I have to go. You stay here."

She grabbed his arm before he could leave. "You call me, _regardless of what you find_ ," she stressed. "You have to let me know what happened."

Happy nodded. He bet that the old man was already dead, but he'd damn sure go and check. Besides, distance didn't appear to matter to whoever was doing this, and that made him worried enough to want to check on his mom and his aunt. Indulging his impulse, he kissed Indiana one last time. "You stay safe."

"I won't leave Diosa," she promised, her emotions completely haywire. "You be careful. Those pictures were of you too."

He nodded, and slipped out of the room. The door clicked shut behind him as the electronic lock slid back into place. She didn't want to jump the gun without more information, but she dreaded the call Happy had promised her. She felt certain that it would come with confirmation of Herbert's death. Unable to face the reality, not without proof, she turned back to her desk, wondering once again where all her work had gone. She would ask Nero in a few minutes. For now, she sat in her plush leather chair, and tried to keep her emotions in check. Happy's firm presence had steadied her, even as he unbalanced her with the intensity of his fervor. Nothing had ever been simple when it came to him and her, so why would anything change now?

Sooner or later she'd be done her job here at Diosa, and then what? There would never be anything permanent between them, just brilliant bursts of lust. That's all. And soon enough, she'd be gone, and that lust he had would be redirected to some sweetbutt. She tried to ignore how much the thought hurt. While she worried over Herbert, and the men who would be going to check on him in Bakersfield, she turned to her window and completely ignored her work.


	45. Everything We Know Is Falling

"Hey? You okay?"

Fawn pulled out of her thoughts, and turned to her long-term boyfriend, Isaiah. How could one possibly explain just how unnerving those pictures had been? How could she explain the complex emotions that controlled her relationship with her father? She took Isaiah's hand and squeezed, desperately wishing she could simply absorb some of his strength. "I don't know."

His thumb brushed over her knuckles. "Everything is going to be fine."

"Don't say that," she shook her head in firm denial. "When it comes to my dad and his club, nothing turns out 'fine.'" She looked back out the window of the dinner they were waiting for her father at. "Just look at what happened to Dawn."

"I know what happened with your sister hurt you-"

She cut him off with an icy glare as she ripped her hand away from his. "Hurt me? Are you fucking serious?" She lowered her voice to avoid nosey-on-lookers. "That was my baby sister. I was the one who practically raised her, _not_ my parents. What happened to her practically eviscerated me." She leaned forward as she continued to seethe, "she was _my_ precious little free-spirit. Our father pissed off the wrong man, and that man _burned my sister alive_." She sat back, the image of absolute fury. "It could have been me. Would that have merely hurt you?"

Isaiah found himself speechless, he rubbed the heels of his palms against his eyes. He had finished off his twelve hour shift to find Fawn waiting on one of the plastic chairs at the clinic he worked for. Once she'd explained what she'd found, and shown him the pictures, he'd agreed that they should go somewhere more protected. He didn't have any desire to see Tig again, (especially not after the embarrassing way in which they'd initially met) but he loved Fawn, and this threat felt too big for him to just protect her from. He thought about just dropping her off in Charming, letting her father take care of her, but he knew from what little she did share about her early life, that their father-daughter relationship had never been smooth sailing.

"Babe, I love you," he finally managed. "I'm sorry. What I said was insensitive."

"I loved her more than anything," Fawn whispered. "She could be a little hellion, but I loved her."

The bell above the door chimed, and she turned to see her father walk in with his kutte on. She hated that fucking Sons of Anarchy patch. That fucking club had taken him away from her when she was young, that and the turbulent relationship between her parents. Regardless, he hadn't been there when it counted. Now, their lives crashed together like cars; he'd be the careless drunk driver, and she'd be the innocent injured.

She studied him as he walked over, and detected the slightest bit of nerves. Good. He should be nervous after everything he'd put her through. She scooted over in the booth, and he slid in beside her. She caught his eyes on her boyfriend. She stomped her heel down on his foot and his leg jerked in response, his knee hitting the table, he stared at her in alarm.

"Have you still got a problem with colour?" She asked, her eyes narrowing.

Tig stared at the boyfriend, the same man he'd caught in bed with his daughter right after Dawn was murdered. He took a deep breath and turned to his daughter. "Not so long as he takes good care of you, Fawnsy."

"He does," she replied coldly, trying to maintain her emotional distance from the situation. "Better than you ever did." She didn't mean to add the dig, but it had slipped out. There were so many unresolved issues between her, and her father. They wouldn't be doing a three-legged race anytime soon, but she knew her best odds after receiving the threat were with him. She'd lived a tough life, and the loss of her bright light, Dawn, had killed off any youthful innocence left in her.

"I tried," Tig replied softly.

"When it was convenient." That was as far as she could relent. She could remember a few bright moments in her youth, but they were hard to see through the ashes of her dead sister.

"I'm here now."

"I'm in this mess now because of you," she replied as she motioned the nervous looking waitress over. "I'll have a water," she said before taking her menu and opening it. "You're buying, Dad."

The one word, that use of 'Dad' gave Tig the slightest bit of hope. Maybe his relationship with his only daughter left wasn't completely irreparable. "Sure, Fawn." He, and Isaiah both requested coffees and the three of them looked over their menus trying to figure out where to go next. "Did you bring the pictures?"

Fawn pulled them out of a large satchel. "Here."

Tig looked over the images. Fawn, and Isaiah walking hand in hand. Fawn getting into her car. Fawn, and Isaiah sitting on a bench by the water. Fawn sitting on her front porch, reading a book. He flipped them all over, and found that the first one had the message on the back, 'Now I lay thee down to sleep,' written in black marker. As far as he was concerned, a death threat to both his daughter and her boyfriend.

"Stay at the clubhouse," he half-asked, half-demanded.

"No," she shook her head.

"You came her to be safe!" he argued.

"I'm not staying there," she remained firm. "I won't." Coming to her father for help was one thing. Relying on the SOA, which she had grown to hate with every fiber of her being, was something she could not do.

"What about my house?" Tig asked. "It's close enough, I can get a few guys from Tacoma to guard it."

"We'll stay at a motel," she decided quickly. Fear, and instinct driving her away from everything her father suggested. Hadn't his decisions already caused her enough pain and suffering?

"Fawn, you came here so I could help. Let me," Tig plead.

"I'm in Charming, aren't I?" she retorted. "This is the best I can do."

Realizing that pushing his daughter on this subject might just push her completely out of his life, he conceded. "I can have a couple of guys watch the local inn then." He watched as Fawn didn't look to him, her father, but to her boyfriend. Isaiah nodded slightly and only then did Fawn turn back to him.

"Okay," she replied.

Tig turned to Isaiah. "You carry?"

Isaiah sighed, not having to ask to what Tig referred. "Not typically, but I stopped at the house to pick up my SIG when Fawn told me about the pictures."

"Good. Are you a good shot?"

"I don't go to the range often, but I'm alright."

Alright didn't quite cut it for Tig and it made him increasingly nervous about his daughter's welfare.

"He's downplaying," Fawn said with a small shake of her head. "He's too goddamn humble." She wondered, time and time again, how she'd ended up with someone so wonderful. "He's a good shot."

A silence fell upon the table. No one knowing what to say, or where to go next. Their waitress brought their drinks and gave them another few minutes with the menu, since no one had bothered to look at them.

::

Ally looked out the front window, from her lovely little home office. Bobby and V-Lin were smoking outside. They had sent Phil home, deciding that he needed some sleep. She turned when she heard Tom's footsteps and he came in with two glasses of cola. She took hers, offered a nod in thanks and took a sip. She coughed. "What did you put in this?"

"Rum," he replied.

She stared at him. "Yeah, tastes like you put the whole damn bottle in the glass."

"You look like you could use it," he pulled up one of the wheeled chairs and sat down beside her. "You should talk about it. I can be a pretty good soundboard. Might even have an idea or two."

"A friend is dead because I was careless and underestimated Toric," Ally replied. Suddenly the 'half a bottle of rum' and coke didn't seem like such a bad idea. She chugged a good half of the glass. Her eyes watered, and her throat burned. "I expected that Clay would be dead earlier, to be honest, but Otto and Lenny-" she shook her head. Lenny 'The Pimp' had been before her time, but she had recently become acquainted with Otto. "Otto had been systematically beaten, usually by other inmates, but there were usually guards around, turning the other way."

"Otto was nearly blind, can you really trust that?"

"He can still remember voices," she snapped. "I was going to help him. One of the guards took a fondness for beating him, usually after another inmate had him down. I was going to bring the bastard down in court, but now there is no one to testify." She bowed her head in defeat. "I believe the beatings were ordered by Toric. Otto thought so. Toric even came to visit a few times, get a few punches in." She chugged the rest of her drink and Rosen passed his untouched one to her. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"I think it might help."

She laughed at his dry delivery and shook her head. "Nothing is going to help. There is nothing I can do. Not for Otto. He was my best odds to go up against Toric. Diane didn't give me too much, nothing that I didn't know anyway. It's so frustrating, Tom!"

"I know."

"I feel terrible about Diane. I haven't heard anything about a funeral." Her eyes turned back out the window where Bobby and V-Lin remained vigilant. "Imagine those two tagging along to the judge's funeral." She hadn't heard in any detail what happened to her friend, but she knew it had been bad. She had no doubt that Toric had murdered Diane, just as she had no doubt that it would have been her if she didn't have the Sons protection. "Toric needs to be brought down."

"He will," Rosen replied evenly.

She'd often felt in awe of her mentor. He'd always had such an even temper, his analytical mind worked wonders in a courtroom. She drank from his glass and allowed the warmth of the alcohol spread through her. "He will," she repeated, needing very much to believe it.

::

Happy stormed through Diosa, his long, quick strides eating up space. He heard snips of what the women around him were gossiping about- '-he just grabbed her,' '-I hope she's okay,' '-he is hotter than sin,' '-and then they went into her office,' '-Happy and Indiana? Guess there is something to that secretary fantasy, huh?', '-who? The accountant? With that tattooed Son?' Despite their entire interlude in front of people had only lasted a minute or so, they had picked up the gossip and run with it.

He passed by Lyla's desk and stopped by Primo. "I have to go deal with something."

Primo nodded. "Alright, I got a couple Byz-Latz coming in soon anyway."

Happy turned, not one for small talk, he threw open the door and made his way over to his bike.

::

Having left before her husband received the text message, Tink remained in good spirits when she arrived at Diosa. One of the Tacoma men had escorted her. Minion had the look of an enforcer, and Tink smartly didn't question his name. She patted his shoulder as she walked past him parking his bike. "Are you waiting, or coming in?"

The man smirked. "I'll stay. Hate to get distracted inside, Quinn'd skin me."

"Smart man," she replied with a laugh. "I'll go in the front, and come out the same way." He nodded, and she walked with her short, quick strides.

The interior of Diosa screamed of sex, but still managed to maintain a look of luxurious class. Impressed, Tink took the time to smell the big bouquet of flowers on an ornamental table. She enjoyed the soft music, but more than that, the chaotic noise of chatter. Lately, the chaotic chatter of the clubhouse had been unsettling, normal conversations happened here. Normal, safe conversations. Nothing stressed, or worried. 'I'm telling you, I saw it,' '-oh yeah, took her into the office,' 'Hey Lyla, have you seen Travis?' 'Left a few minutes ago,' '-the pink one, or do you think I should wear the purple one?' 'I don't know, which one shows the most leg?'

She walked over to the main desk. "Lyla, right?"

"Yes," Lyla replied. "You're with Quinn, right?"

"Yeah, I'm Tink. I was hoping I'd catch Gemma, is she around?"

"She's back in my office," Nero said. "Down the hall, first door to the left. You're Indiana's mother, right?"

Close enough. "Yes, is everything okay?" Tink instinctively went to worry.

"Everything is fine," Nero replied. "She's really something with numbers. If she can't figure this thing out, no one can."

Tink smiled proudly, remembering days of Indiana hunched over books with as many letters as numbers, long-hand calculations that took up pages and left both she and Quinn scratching their heads. "Thanks for saying so."

"Gemma could use the friend," Nero admitted softly. "She's taking the death of her ex-husband rather hard."

"I'll see what I can do," she gave him a wink before heading down the hall and knocking on the door to the left. "Gemma? It's Tink."

A moment later the door opened, Gemma's eyes red-rimmed. "You tell anyone about this and-"

"Oh save the threats," Tink cut her off, stepping in. "I won't tell a soul. Just let it out, Gemma, it'll do you a world of good."

::

Happy isn't used to being distracted. His mind remained on the goal; get to Teller-Morrow, saddle up with a couple brothers, go to Bakersfield and see what's what. But it's also stuck on Indiana. He never thought there could be something better than being on a bike, but having her pressed up against him challenged that notion. He never thought there could be someone so potent that she could twist around his cold heart and make him burn. Neither the years nor the distance had lessened his desire for her. Finding her all grown up only made it that much easier to pull her in. Sometimes, when he looked at her and lust ate away at common sense, he forgot just whose daughter she was. Sometimes, he remembered and it just didn't fucking matter.

He wondered if she'd upgraded her undergarments. Not that he hadn't been fond of what he'd seen before, but he wondered because of her new attire. Maybe there was some simplistic back cotton under her suit. He hoped not. Oddly, he missed the bright colours, and strange patterns. Maybe there was still something left of that little wild-child, some orange lace-

Stop!

Fuck!

Focus.

Teller-Morrow. Brothers. Bakersfield.

Fucking focus!

He checked his mirrors, made a note of a truck and its distance from him. He turned his eyes to the road, and checked odometer, holding steady a few MPH over the speed limit. He'd go faster, but it isn't uncommon to come across a cop car hiding out around the turn to nail speeders. Now is not the time to get pulled over. When he checked the mirrors again, he found the truck much closer. Fine, if the guy wanted to speed, he could pass.

His heart jumped a little as the truck got closer and closer still. Not passing. Happy gunned the engine to give himself some space. Around the corner came another truck. No front plate. He checked his mirrors. No plate on it either. Dread washed over him as the truck in front took a hard turn and braked. He didn't have time to think of the 'who' or 'why,' he barely had time to make decisions to stay alive. The road ahead, now blocked by the truck left him in a dangerous situation. He knew it was too late to break, and a hard break would likely just launch him over the handlebars anyway. The gravel looks unfriendly at this speed, but the truck behind him, ready to rear-end his motorcycle, wasn't giving him another option.

He took to the gravel, the back wheel slid. He shifted his weight trying to keep the bike upright. His knuckles turned white as he held tight trying to get the bike past the truck blocking the road.

Unfortunately, gravel is a fucking bitch.

He lost control of his bike, the back end losing traction and slid toward the road, and next thing he knew, he was airborne.

Then hard ground. Grass. Shrub. A tree that stops him from rolling any further down the hill. It takes almost ten seconds for the world to stop spinning, another ten for him to suck in a breath that the collision had knocked out of him. A few more seconds for him to realize what just happened, for the pain to radiate from his shoulder to all-the-fuck-over. His left shoulder had dislocated, he damn well knew it. He couldn't tell if he'd gotten injured elsewhere, the intense pain of his shoulder clouded any lesser wounds. The back of his head felt funny. He unclipped his helmet and tossed it to the side. The helmet sat where it landed, a piece missing from the hard external shell, and a dent in the softer internal shell. He stared for a moment, that crack could have been his skull, and that dent could have been his brain.

Anger took over, his ears ringing (something he blames on the knock to the head), and he forced himself to roll up to his knees. The ringing masked the oncoming noise of men rushing through the brush. He only heard them when it was far too late. He turned only to be pistol whipped unconscious.


	46. Devil's Backbone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter title is totally from a The Civil Wars song, I think it just suited a moment in this chapter quite well, and thus it ended up on repeat while I was writing. Also, since this chapter got cut differently than I had first thought, the title I had in mind feels more fitting for the next chapter anyway. Blah, blah, blah, no one reads authors notes. Enjoy.

Indiana let out a shaky breath. She could still smell the leather, and smoke that clung to Happy like a cologne. The warmth of his hands remained on her skin. The taste of him lingered on her lips, her skin sensitive from the scraping of his stubble. He had always been the one, the one to make her lose her sense, the one she felt secure with, the one she itched just to spend a few seconds with, the one she thought of as she drifted off to sleep.

Since she'd come to Charming, their lives had become intertwined, and once again, the desire for one another continued to build. She wondered if it would come to fruition a second time. It would be best to close shop and run like hell now. It might just save her the heartache that would surely be her reward. Happy Lowman would never take on an Old Lady, the concept nearly made her laugh. She'd only be a complication to him, and he'd walk away. He'd look at her with that same regret as he had seven years ago, and tell her that 'this shouldn't have happened,' and the cracks in her heart would completely shatter once again.

She'd have to run in order to avoid getting caught in his orbit, desperately desiring anything he would give her. She refused to have the same mentality as a lowly Croweater. Take what she could get, and walk out of the room when they were done. No, she'd run out of Charming as soon as this job was over, save herself, save them both from the regret.

Her phone rang, pulling her from her thoughts. She checked the ID, and nearly fumbled the phone in her haste to answer it. "Dax!"

_"_ _You are the King of All Technology, say it."_

Indiana laughed. "You got the names?"

 _"_ _You bet,"_ Dax replied. _"You got a pen and paper?"_

"Yeah, shoot," she replied, grabbing a stack of fresh sticky notes, and a pen. The first name gave her pause. Travis Irving. She'd figured an inside man would be needed, even suspected the man, but she hadn't had any proof. "Okay, got it, the next one." The next name she didn't recognize, but wrote it down. "Thank you. Seriously, King of all Technology, you are the very best. I have to go and deliver this, I owe you big time."

_"_ _You owe me a case of beer. Expensive import beer. From Germany."_

"I'll get you two. I promise," Indiana replied before hanging up. She had only managed to stand before her phone rang again. Her eyes went to the display screen where the caller ID displayed. HAPPY. There was no way he could have made it to Bakersfield yet. Puzzled, she grabbed the phone, and answered. "Hap? Everything okay?"

 _"_ _Let me make a few things abundantly clear to you, Miss Quinn,"_ the voice over the phone said. _"One, I have Happy Lowman with me, and I will blow his fucking brains out if you do not follow my orders. Do you understand?"_

Her knees shook so violently that she had to sit down. "I understand," she found herself agreeing. It took till that moment for her to place the voice. Travis Irving.

_"_ _Good. Two, I have people keeping an eye out for me at Diosa. If you try to tell anyone, in any way that you are in distress, they will call me and I will kill him."_

"I won't tell anyone," she replied softly.

_"_ _Three, stay on the line, I don't want you calling anyone when you leave Diosa."_

"Where am I going?"

_"_ _Your residence here in Charming. Get going, and don't act suspicious."_

"I want to talk to him."

 _"_ _Did I make the impression that this was some kind of negotiation?"_ he snarled. " _You do as I say."_

"I'm not walking in there unless I know he's still alive," Indiana replied much stronger than she felt.

 _"_ _Say 'hello' to your little slut."_ Silence followed. _"Say something,"_ Travis growled. Indiana's eyes went to the photographs that were still spread out on her desk, focusing on Happy's face. She heard a grunt over the line, and she shut her eyes. He was alive, and they were hurting him trying to get him to say something. _"Fine, you don't want to say anything, I'll get her here another way. While I wouldn't touch that biker whore with a ten foot pole, I assure you that my colleagues don't have such standards."_

 _"_ _I'll fucking gut you,"_ Happy's deep rasp came over the line.

 _"_ _You hear that?"_ Travis asked.

"I heard," Indiana whispered. "Please," she allowed herself to sound weak, small, and fearful. "Please don't hurt him."

_"_ _You better get her quick then. Follow the rules. Stay on the line."_

Indiana reached inside of her blazer to where her Colt rested in her shoulder rig. She pinned her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she pulled the blazer close together, hiding the gun fairly well. She rushed toward the office door, the sound of her own heartbeat prominent in her head. She went out the back door, lessening the chance of bumping into anyone. Upon a quick survey of the parking lot, she noticed a man sitting on a motorcycle, but facing away from her. Her long strides ate up space as she hurried toward her car.

_"_ _Where are you?"_

"My car. Went out the back door," Indiana replied. The car started up. "I'm on my way," she said pulling out of the lot. _Hold on Happy, don't do anything stupid._

::

"I reached out to Fresno, they're sending a couple of guys," Quinn informed Jackson, sitting down on at the picnic table outside of Teller-Morrow. "Called a couple of former Nomads, Harry is on his way from New York, I got a couple of guys who need to talk to their Pres's before making their way over. I'm hoping we don't need the help, but best to have it in case we do."

Jax nodded. "Thanks." He looked out at the road. "Where the fuck is he?" Jax wondered out-loud as he started up yet another cigarette. Happy didn't make detours. The drive from Diosa should have only taken twenty minutes. Thirty if traffic was heavy. It had almost been an hour.

"Something happened," Quinn said, throwing his cigarette down and stomping on it. "Hap doesn't get distracted."

"I'll call Diosa, see when he left," Jax said pulling out his phone.

_"_ _Diosa, Lyla spea-"_

"Lyla, it's Jax," he said, cutting her off. "I need to know when Happy left."

_"_ _Oh, I saw him leave, it was probably a little over an hour ago. Stormed out of here like a man on a mission. Is everything okay?"_

"Nothing for you to worry over," Jax insisted before he hung up. "He left, a little over an hour ago."

"Accident?" Quinn wondered out-loud.

Jax frowned, and rubbed the scruff on his chin. Hard to imagine Happy having a careless accident, the man was one of the best riders in the MC. Jax took one last drag off his cigarette before he stubbed it out on the table. "Chibs! Juice! You're with us. Now!"

"What's going on, Jackie-boy?" Chibs asked, stepping away from his wife after he heard the slight edge of panic in the President's voice.

"It's Hap. Something's up. He left Diosa over an hour ago. He still ain't here."

"Shit," Juice turned and made a bee-line for his bike, the other men doing the same.

"Chibs, Juice, you ride up Fairview," Jax ordered. "Quinn and I will take Emmerdale, they're the two most direct routes, Happy would have taken one of them."

Chibs nodded, and both he and Juice kicked off. A few seconds later, both Quinn and Jax's motorcycles rumbled to life and they followed behind.

::

"It never used to be like this," Gemma said softly. Tears had their time, but she wouldn't allow it to continue. Time to get her shit together. "Do you remember when this life was almost peaceful?"

"I do admit, this shit used to hit the fan a little less frequently," Tink considered, "But I'd never consider this life 'peaceful.' It sure is an adventure, though."

"I've been with two great men, and lost them both." She stared into the whiskey she'd taken from one of the bottles on Nero's little office bar. "Hell, I lost them both before this life took them." She looked over at Tink. "You sure you don't want a drink."

"No thanks. Are you worried about being with Nero because you're afraid you'll lose him too?"

Gemma shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. He ain't this club either. It's been my entire adult life."

"Maybe it's time for a change."

"Yeah, no kidding," Gemma swallowed the rest of the whiskey, and got up to refill her glass.

::

Quinn and Jax arrived at Diosa, they hadn't encountered any sign of an accident. While they sat around, waiting for Juice, and Chibs to get there, Minion made his way over. "Your Old Lady is still inside," he said, nodding his head in Quinn's direction. "Is everything okay?"

"Not sure yet," Jax replied.

"I'm going to go in, check on my wife and kid," Quinn said. "All this shit's got me antsy."

Jax nodded, and Quinn dismounted and left his helmet behind. He walked into Diosa and went straight for the front desk. "Indiana's office, where is it?"

Lyla stared up at the large man. "It's down the right hall, first door on the right."

"And Tink?"

"She's in Nero's office with Gemma," Lyla replied. "It's the office down the same hallway, but second door on the left."

"Thanks."

Quinn walked quickly to the first door on the right, and knocked loudly. After a second he tried the handle only to see the electronic lock. "Indie!" He knocked again.

"I haven't seen her leave," Nero said, after walking up behind the man. "You're her father right?" Quinn nodded. "She looks a little like you." Nero swiped the master key and pushed the door open.

Quinn stared in. The room empty of his daughter. "Where is she?"

"I don't know," Nero replied. "She sure cleaned up her desk though. Used to be a million and one papers and sticky notes posted everywhere."

"It always looks chaotic, but she seems to understand it all," Quinn agreed as he walked closer. Upon the desk were surveillance photos. "What the fuck?" With every image, his blood pressure spiked. "Get my wife from your office. Now."

Nero nodded, feeling the same sense of dread when he saw the images. He rushed out of the room as Quinn rounded the table. He pulled out his phone and called Jax. "Get in here," he said the moment the other man answered. He hung up, and put his phone back inside of his kutte. As desperate as he was to get his brother back, the images of Happy so close with his daughter left him enraged. He second-guessed every interaction he'd ever witnessed between the two.

"Rane?" Tink rushed into the room. "Where is Indie?"

"I don't know." He turned the picture of Happy and Indiana toward her. "Did you know about this?"

Tink reached out, and grabbed the photograph. "Huh. No. I didn't."

"You don't sound particularly surprised though," Quinn grumbled as he sorted through the rest of the images, pausing on one of her sleeping in bed.

"You like to think of Indiana as an eight year old, I on the other hand see her as a woman. I've noticed a few things over the years," Tink shrugged. "Always thought she had a crush on him. I didn't know they were to together, if they even are."

Quinn pointed to the photograph of the Happy and Indiana in an embrace. "Isn't that enough proof?" He nodded to Jax as he walked in.

"No," Tink replied, picking up the lone sticky note stuck to her desk. "I've seen any number of patches go a hell of a lot farther with a woman and still not be 'together.'"

Seeing the anger on Quinn's face, Jax stepped in. "What's going on?"

"Did you know about this?" Quinn demanded. Jax's eyebrows shot up when he caught sight of the picture.

"Can we focus?" Tink demanded. "She should be here. She isn't. Happy was supposed to make it to the garage, he didn't."

"Jackson," Gemma called as she, along with Nero, Chibs, and Juice walked in. "What the hell is going on?"

"Not sure," Jax replied. He turned to Chibs and Juice. "You guys see anything?"

"Aye," Chibs admitted. "Skid marks on the road, looks like a motorcycle tried to take to the gravel, bike is gone though."

"We found a helmet," Juice said. "The shell is cracked to shit. Padding is dented."

"He might have a concussion," Chibs said.

"Who's Trav Iring?" Tink asked.

"Travis Irving?" Nero corrected. "He's one of my accountants. Why?"

"It's what Indiana wrote on this note, along with another name, I'm trying to make it out," Tink admitted. "She has the worst goddamn penmanship of anyone I've ever seen. Four year olds learning to hold crayons write better than she does."

"Juice, see if there is anything on the computer," Jax instructed. Juice nodded and hurried around the desk and immediately started to type. "Where the fuck are they?"

::

Happy's wrists behind his back bled as he'd initially tried to pull them from the tight metal handcuffs. They had forced him to kneel on the ground, two of the men keeping guns pointed at his head, Travis Irving however sat on one of the barstools at the kitchen island. He, along with the two standing men would be the first thing Indiana would see when she came through the door. Only when she made her way in further, around the island, would she see Happy.

One of the men, the bald one, had used pliers to rip out one of his fingernails when they'd tried to get him to talk to Indiana over the phone. He'd wanted her to stay the fuck out of this, stay somewhere safe, not do something so irrationally stupid, as coming here, walking into this trap. Smart girl does something remarkably stupid, _again_. He'd vowed silence, but he'd broken that vow only seconds later when Irving promised that his men would just go out, and use her before getting what they want.

Information, that's what Happy suspected Irving wanted. All of Indiana's notes, and papers were spread out over the counter. Suddenly the power outage at Diosa made sense. The breaker had been flipped- Indiana's office had electronic locks that came with the safety feature of automatically unlocking in the event of power failure, or fire in the building. Irving just had to flip the breaker, and walk into Indiana's office to get everything she had on him, and whoever he worked with.

He could hear Indiana sniffling over the phone, probably crying. He figured the intelligent woman knew just what she had committed herself to walk into. _"Why are you doing this?"_ She cried. _"What do you want?"_

"We'll talk once you're here," Travis said, his eyes cutting to Happy. "Hurry up. Time is wasting."

_"_ _Please, I'm almost there. Please don't hurt him!"_

Travis smiled. "Tick tock."

A gut-wrenching sob came over the line, and Happy shut his eyes trying to come up with some plan that kept her out of the line of fire. Fact was, even if he got to his feet, they'd shoot him dead before he could do anything, and then what would happen to her? Maybe she wouldn't come? He dismissed the thought immediately. She'd come, even on the slightest chance he still drew breath. So he waited. Waited for some moment that might be able to save her. Because fuck, he didn't give a damn about walking out of this himself. He just wanted to make sure that nothing happened to her.

He regretted the careless manner in which he'd treated her over the years. In that moment, he just wanted a second chance to make it up to her. The thought of her walking into this mess pained him, but even if he yelled at her to turn her car around, she wouldn't listen. He knew her well enough to know that.

 _"_ _I'm here,"_ she said, breathless. _"I'm here."_

"Stay on the line," Travis ordered. The two men with guns stood a little straighter, ready for whatever came. "Come inside. Hand me your phone."

::

Indiana didn't have to work very hard to get worked up, her emotions were an absolute mess. As if the entire Happy situation wasn't enough to get her crying, she pulled up ever sad memory to fuel her emotional break. She'd openly sobbed over the phone line. Her entire life, she'd been underestimated because of her gender, and the role it played in the kind of life she'd been born into, and this was one time when she welcomed being underestimated it. In fact, she was counting on it.

She'd begged Irving not to hurt Happy, she'd allowed herself to fall to the point of begging. "I'm here," she said, breathless. She quickly swiped at the tears, trying to clear her vision. "I'm here."

 _"_ _Stay on the line,"_ Travis ordered. _"Come inside. Hand me your phone."_

She sniffled again, and got out of the car, slamming the door loudly. Those four steps it took to get to the door seemed too long. She opened the door and stepped inside. Travis Irving sat at the kitchen island with a cocky grin on his face. Two of his men stood a little to the right with their guns pointed. She walked closer and put her phone on the island, freezing as her eyes met Happy's.

Her lower lip quivered- an unacted reaction to seeing him on his knees at the hands of these men. She fought to keep her rage hidden under the sadness. She thought of Mac and the tears returned. "Please," Indiana begged. "Please, leave him alone! What do you want?"

Travis took her phone, and removed the battery. "I want to know what you know, and who you told."

"About what?"

He swept his hand over her work. "About this. Your writing is completely illegible, I need to know what you know about the Diosa's financial situation."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she cried. "I work for Nero, he was audited personally."

"Don't fucking lie to me!" Travis shouted. He motioned to one of the men, the one covered in tattoos, and he pistol whipped Happy in the back of the head.

"No! Stop!" Indiana shouted even as Happy turned toward the tattooed man, his expression promising lethal retribution. "Please, leave him alone."

"Stop lying."

"Nero hired me to find out who was syphoning off the money."

"Indiana," Happy snarled. "Don't."

"I traced it to a company, it had one property, I gave that name to Nero and his business partners The Sons of Anarchy. They went to check it out, but didn't find anything. I swear, I don't know anything else. I kept looking, but I couldn't find anything. Please. Let him go. Let him go!"

Travis stared at her, as if trying to figure out if she was lying. "If you didn't know anything more, why were you in my office?" His eyes cut to Happy, and back to her. "Don't lie."

"I suspected that it had to be an inside job. Yours was the first office I broke into. When you caught me, I lost the nerve to go to the others." She quickly wiped the tears from her vision, needing to be able to see, despite needing to be seen as weak and useless. "You didn't have a damn thing there that implicated you." He weighed her words and she feared she may have come to the end of her usefulness. "Why? Why do this to Nero?"

"He's just a casualty to this," Travis told her. "It's not Nero that we have a problem with. It's the Sons of Anarchy. Crippling Diosa also crippled the Sons finances. It's a nice start, and a good distraction, but not exactly the revenge my uncle had in mind."

"Revenge for what?" Indiana demanded. "You have some beef with the Sons, and you risk everything for what?"

Irving paused, grief passing over his features. Out of his interior suit pocket, he pulled out a photograph. "You saw this in my desk." He flipped the image around, she stared at the photograph of the younger Travis with his arm around a beautiful young woman with blonde hair and a brilliant smile. "My cousin, Polly."

A few seconds later, Happy cursed.

Travis turned his attention to the Son. "So, you remember Polly. With the kind of contacts my Uncle has, it wasn't difficult to find out that Gemma Teller-Morrow was the one who pulled the trigger. Clay would have killed both my uncle and Polly had the police not intervened. Her death ultimately falls to the Sons." Travis stood, and paced a few steps away, checking out the window before drawing the blinds. "Uncle Ethan wants the Sons to understand the pain of losing their daughters." He turned back to Indiana. "He regrets that Clay is already dead and that Jackson doesn't have any daughters, but he will feel the pain through is brothers."

Indiana blanched. "Let Happy go. He isn't a part of your revenge plan. You have me. Let him go."

"How honourable," Travis mocked. "If it's any consolation, your sister is likely already dead. You'll be joining her soon."

"Brooke," Indiana whispered, her eyes widening in horror.

He shrugged, uncaringly. "We had to start somewhere."

She looked at his hands, and then reassessed his dress, the rings on his hands. "You're the one who threatened my mother at Sanctuary." His smile confirmed it. "The text sent from Herbert's phone, one of your men?" The smile grew. Her hand rested over her heart. "He's dead, isn't he?"

"The Sons are going to pay, and they are going to grieve."

A sob escaped her lips. She tried to keep the breath in her lungs, but her emotions refused to be caged. She looked down at Happy, the two men still had their weapons drawn on him. That wouldn't last long. Everything she'd done since hearing Travis's voice over the line had come to this moment. All the things she'd thought of to bring her to this emotionally wrecked state, she shut out. She needed her strength, because right now, Happy's life was in her hands. "Chibs told me a story once," she said quickly, her eyes locking with his, desperate to make him understand. "You were with Chibs, Juice and Tig, at some bar or something, you guys got into it with-"

"Aw, you want to say goodbye?" Travis taunted.

Indiana spoke over him. "-Some guys, and you got sick all down their leader. Do you remember what happened next?"

"Indie," Happy whispered.

"Do you remember?" she shouted desperately.

"Yes!" He yelled back.

"I meant what I said that night at Sanctuary," she whispered. "I always have loved you." And with that, she drew her gun and pointed it directly at Travis, in response, both of his guards turned their guns from Happy to Indiana.

Travis smiled. "You wouldn't dare."

But oh yes, she would.


	47. Open Wounds

In the next ten seconds everything happened at once. Indiana fired the first shot, her aim true, the bullet hit Travis right between the eyes, his head snapped backward and before his corpse fell to the floor Happy had gotten his handcuffed hands under his knees. She moved quick, pivoting, and firing two shots at the second man, both catching him in the chest. Happy got the chain under his feet, and with his hands at the front, he grabbed the fallen man's gun.

The next shot happened before he could turn around, and he heard a body hit the floor. He turned to see the tattooed man turning his gun from Indiana to him. Happy rolled onto his side, howling as the pain radiated through his dislocated shoulder, a bullet embedding into the floor where he had been a moment before. Happy fired upward, emptying the clip, every bullet hitting the man who fell backward.

His ears, still sensitive from the crash, rang from the barrage of bullets. He got back to his knees, and looked across the room to Indiana. The open blazer had fallen open, exposing her shoulder rig, and the white t-shirt that was soaking up the blood from the bullet wound. "Indie!" He managed to stumble to his feet only to fall back his knees at her side, his own pain completely numbed from the shock of seeing her like injured. "Indiana?"

Her desperate inhales that sounded almost like she breathed through a straw. He stood, and grabbed her phone from the counter with both hands, fumbling as the handcuffs messing with his dexterity, he rushed to put the battery back in. He looked down at her, and with startling clarity knew that her injuries were beyond what Tara could do outside of a hospital setting. That bullet was in her lung. She would die without a hospital. He didn't think about the ramifications of the club for once in his life, he dialled 911.

He gave the pertinent information; female, gunshot wound to the chest, no there was no longer a threat, yes, she's breathing, no not well. The operator wanted him to stay on the line, but he hung up, and called Quinn's number.

 _"_ _My Little Anarchist!"_ Happy winced at the relief in Quinn's voice. _"Where are you?"_

"Indie's been shot," Happy managed to get the words out. "Travis Irving. He had a couple of men, they're dead."

 _"_ _Indie?"_ he asked, a voice impossibly small for the big man.

"She's having trouble breathing. I already called an ambulance. I'll stay with her until it gets here. I'll try to think of a way to keep this off the club. Stay away."

 _"_ _Fuck that,"_ Quinn said. _"Where are you?"_

"The house Indie's been staying at."

_"_ _We're almost there. We were heading there to look for her anyway."_

Happy left the phone on the counter and crouched beside her again. He pressed his fingers to the pulse point at the side of her throat. Her skin felt clammy, her pulse weak. Happy and hopelessness didn't go hand in hand, but the dark shroud of it covered him. His expertise included putting bullets into people, not getting them out. He couldn't do a damn thing to help, afraid to move her, afraid not too. The way she kept making those terrible gasping sounds became almost a comfort to him, because it signified that she still, in fact, breathed.

The door opened, he grabbed the gun from the floor, and barely managed to get to his feet, shocked when his vision blurred, and he nearly lost his balance. He blinked a few times, trying to regain focus, and get his gun level.

"Put it down, Hap," Quinn snapped. Happy immediately responded to the voice. A second later he had Chibs helping him stand straight.

"Betcha got a concussion, brother, don't fight me," Chibs insisted, worried about the blood that coated the back of Happy's head, and the odd angle in which his one shoulder stuck out.

"Indiana," Happy argued, and pushed Chibs away. "Help her." Chibs let out a sigh, but nodded.

Tink's heels clicked along the hardwood floors. It didn't faze her to step over a dead man's arm to get to her daughter. She dropped to her knees, and checked Indiana's pulse first, her old paramedic training kicking back in as though she hadn't been off the job a day much twenty some years. She found the skin to be sweaty and yet cold under her fingertips, the pulse weak, and uneven. Tink tried her best to separate herself from the situation, just a person, not her daughter laying there with a bullet in her lung.

Chibs knelt down opposite to Tink, and wordlessly held out his knife. She grabbed the handle and cut the collar of Indiana's shirt. She handed the large blade back, and used her hands to rip the shirt away, lessening the odds of cutting the woman she worked on saving. Jax, Juice, and Minion turned away out of respect. Quinn couldn't bear to look away as his daughter continued to suffer, like looking away would be a betrayal to her plight. Happy stared, willing with all his might that she would live.

Tink put her ear to Indiana's chest, listening carefully to what the sounds of her breath told her. Indiana continued wheezing, but the breath sounds only came from the left side. "Shit! Her right lung is collapsed. Fuck, fuck, fuck," she floundered, looking around the room. While the things she needed would be in a well-stocked ambulance, Tink feared her daughter didn't have the time to wait. She had to improvise. "I need a pen!" She shouted at the guys, praying one of them had one, or could find one quickly.

Jax pulled out the pen he wrote in his journal with. "Here."

Chibs took it, and worked on getting the thing apart, knowing they needed just the tube. "Improvising a chest decompression isn't easy," he muttered.

"She's lost a lot of blood, she's not breathing well," Tink replied. Indiana's colour had pretty much gone, her lips had started to turn blue. "She won't make it if we don't try."

Chibs nodded, his hands steady. "I'm with you."

"Guys, we need alcohol," she demanded. "And a knife, a small one."

"I got vodka," Minion said, passing his flask to Tink.

Happy focused again. With his hands still cuffed together, his dislocated shoulder radiated pain through his body as he bent and pulled his stiletto blade out of his boot. "Here."

Tink nodded, and took the offered blade, she soaked it with the vodka, before pouring more over the exposed wound. Juice had rounded up some clean dish cloths, and Tink wiped the blood away, so she could better see what she was dealing with.

Chibs grabbed the vodka, and quickly doused the pen tube. "Ready when you are."

Tink quickly looked up at her husband, desperately needing his consent. "Rane?"

He didn't hesitate to nod. "Do it."

She felt for the space between the second and third rib in a line down the chest from the collar bone. Her old paramedic-self spoke; second intercostal space, midclavicular line. She held the knife pointed to her daughter's chest, and nearly sobbed. "Hold on, baby," she prayed. "Hold on." She shoved the knife in, hitting the sweet spot just brushing the past edge of the top rib. She pulled the knife out and took the pen tube Chibs offered, and shoved it into the hole she'd made. She heard the rush of air escape, and let out a breath herself. That was a good sign. Chibs bundled some of the rags and now addressed the bleeding gunshot wound. Tink paid attention to the good lung, the rise and fall of her breaths, covering the hole of the pen whenever Indiana inhaled, and uncovering it when she exhaled. Over a few minutes, a bit of pinkness returned to Indiana's once blue lips. "That's it, baby, hold on."

::

Brooklyn hadn't taken her husband's name when she married, but around that time she had dropped the hyphen and her mother's last name of 'Leto' making her legal name Brooklyn Quinn. Despite her rocky relationship with her father, his absence from her life (which she knew was more her mother's fault than her father's) Quinn was a name in which she just couldn't part with. She wanted to believe she kept it simply for protection (anyone who knows Rane Quinn should know better than to piss him off) but she worried that the reason ran deeper. That surname was her link back into a world she didn't feel quite done with- despite avoiding it for the past three years. Too much unfinished business. For all her problems with the club; notably her rocky relationship with a Son named Mark, her more stable- and thus more terrifying- relationship with Dax, and the occasionally suffocating protection of her father, there were days when she missed it.

She pulled her car up to the nice little house in a slice of suburbia. She sat there and stared. More than anything, she'd grown to hate this slice of normalcy. The role of 'housewife' just didn't suit her. The nice little house, the 'good guy' husband, the smiling at the neighbours, and hosting house parties sometimes just made her want to scream. She stayed, fit herself into the role she'd assumed for RJ's sake. Not a planned child- an accident three months into dating. She had foolishly thought that motherhood might be the missing ingredient to this picture perfect life- one she couldn't understand why she couldn't properly settle into. Two years later, her little RJ had become the one thing that could make her smile, her little light.

It wasn't that she didn't love her husband. She did. To an extent. He fixed things around the house. He adored his son and was a model father. He spoiled her with flowers for no reason, or would set up a babysitter, and take her out for a night on the town. For unexplainable reasons though, sometimes she just wanted to pack up RJ and hit the road. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she blamed the years spent at Sanctuary, getting a glimpse of the Nomad lifestyle. But even that didn't explain why in those secret fantasies she didn't bring her husband with her.

"Because I'm a horrible human being," she muttered to herself, still staring out the window of her car at the little house. She had a habit of leaving the men in her life behind, a trait she blamed on her mother who instilled the same trust and control issues unwittingly into her daughter. Better to leave than to be left, better to have the control than to hand it over, and when in doubt, run like hell. In this relationship, Brooklyn felt secure that her doting husband would never leave her, and in this relationship, the control remained firmly in her hands, and somehow, she still didn't feel happy. Running had its allure, but even she had moral issues with basically kidnapping their son, or more accurately, with separating her son from his loving father.

Without seeing another option, or even fully understanding her unhappiness, she slipped back into her role of housewife, and got out of the car. Vanity had her checking her reflection in the car window. She had put on a few extra pounds when she'd been pregnant with RJ, and instead of getting rid of the weight right away, she'd just added more. Instead of her designer tight fitting clothing, she now wore 'comfort clothing.' "Oh how the mighty have fallen," she whispered bitterly, her lip curling in self-disgust. She could hear her mother's voice in the back of her head pointing out every single flaw, just as she had when she was alive.

Brooklyn turned away from her reflection and went to the trunk. She pulled out the big brown bag of groceries, balancing it on her hip like she did with her son, and slammed the door shut. Instead of the click of fashionable heels, or boots, she wore sneakers that remained relatively soundless. Odd to miss a sound, but she did, and that powerful feeling that came with wearing them.

Before she even opened the door, she could hear RJ crying. She had the surge of maternal instinct to just hold her little boy, but first, she had to get the ice cream into the freezer. "Brian, I'm home," she called as she went directly for the kitchen. She set the groceries down, and then her keys and phone. She noticed movement in her peripheral vision, but didn't turn. She grabbed the head of lettuce out of the bag and turned toward the fridge. "Hey, have you checked on RJ? He doesn't usually cry this long before falling to sleep for his nap."

When he didn't respond, she turned, "Bria-" she stared in absolute horror. The man before her was dressed entirely in black, including a ski mask. Behind him, through the extra-large doorway into the living room, she saw her husband laying on the floor, blood flooding the grey carpet. She'd never been good with blood, and the gore made her feel lightheaded, white spots dancing in her vision. She looked once again at the man, and this time, noticed the bloody butcher knife in hand.

She grabbed the counter top to keep her knees from buckling. The man looked at her oddly, almost studying her, and she had the feeling he enjoyed this little game. He said nothing, but waved the knife around. The blood on the knife shone under the bright kitchen lights, and she knew if she passed out, she was as good as dead. RJ's cries pitched higher, more desperate, and she bit down on her tongue, the pain bringing back a focus. Her little boy needed her, but between him and her stood the man with the knife.

::

Tink, and Quinn rode in the ambulance with their daughter, not before Tink tossed her keys to Chibs. A couple of police officers had come right behind the ambulance, and Happy glared at them. Jax, Minion, and Juice played interference, but the officers were getting edgy. "We need to get statements from all of you," the older one said. "We can either do this the easy way, or charge you all with obstruction of justice, and take you all in, in cuffs."

Happy, who had been recently released from handcuffs thanks to Juice finding the keys in one of the dead men's pockets, had no desire to have his torn up wrists back in such confines. He levelled them with a dark stare, but stayed well back. Even if he was, for once, completely innocent, he wouldn't talk to the cops.

"I need to get this man to a hospital," Chibs pointed over his shoulder at Happy. "Have you a problem with that?"

"Look, boys, it's been a rough day for all of us," Jax said smoothly. "We're all going to be at Saint Thomas. You want statements, meet us there." Both officers stared disbelievingly. "We just want to check on our friend," Jax insisted. "You can follow us the entire way there."

The younger officer looked to the one in charge and shrugged. The older one huffed out a breath. "Fine, but if you screw me over on this, Teller…"

"Obstruction of justice, I get it," Jax motioned to Juice and Minion. "Let's go." He turned to Chibs. "You got Hap?"

"Yeah, I got him." Chibs replied, he waited until the officers were in their car before turning to Happy. "That arm is fucked, isn't it?"

As much as it pained Happy to admit such a thing, he nodded.

"You want me to set it," Chibs asked, "Or do you want to wait until St. T's?"

"Just do it," Happy replied. It had faded to a persistent ache, but knew when Chibs pulled it back into place it would hurt like a bitch.

"Alright," Chibs got a good hold on Happy's arm, and put his other hand on Happy's ribs to brace the pull. "You ready?"

"Yeah," Happy muttered, "Just fucking do it."

"Count of three," Chibs said, and then suddenly pulled hard, feeling as well as hearing the pop of Happy's shoulder snapping back into place.

"Motherfucker!" The pain shot through him in a burst, bright and angry, and then it started to fade. He shot Chibs a dirty look. "What the fuck happened to three?"

"I counted silently," Chibs shot him a cheeky grin. "Now get in," Chibs pointed at Tink's Lincoln that both she and Quinn had arrived in.

Happy didn't argue, he just walked, a little unsteadily to the passenger side of the vehicle, and climbed in. While his head throbbed, at least his vision had cleared. His thumb and forefinger worked over the bridge of his nose, trying to provide some relief to the impending migraine. Shutting his eyes against the mid-day light only brought the clear mental image of Indiana's bloody form laying in the kitchen. Even over the persistent ringing in his ears he recalled the sound of those laboured breaths. He turned to Chibs once the other man shut the door. "You were a medic."

"Aye." Chibs started up the SUV, and dreaded the follow up question.

"Will she be okay?"

Chibs shifted into reverse. "I'm no doc."

Happy's eyes narrowed. "Chibs," his voice low in warning.

"Had Tink not come with us, no, she'd have likely died before the medics got here," he admitted as he slowly backed the vehicle out of the driveway. "I was a medic, but I obviously didn't have nearly as much training as she did."

"And now," Happy demanded, his patience tested with how Chibs continued to beat around the bush. "Will she be okay?"

Chibs sighed. "I don't know, Hap. I don't know." The defeat in the Scot's voice had Happy deflating in his seat. Chibs checked his rear-view mirrors and saw the police cruiser right on their bumper. "We need to get you checked into the hospital yourself."

"I'm fine."

Chibs rolled his yes. "I might not be a doctor, but I damn well have enough experience to know a concussion when I see one. You're going to the hospital Hap." They two rode in silence up to the stop sign. "Did you know about the photographs in Indiana's office?"

Happy sighed heavily. "Yeah. Did Quinn see 'em?"

"Yeah," Chibs nodded.

"Shit." Happy suddenly sat up, and slammed his fist against the door. "Fuck!"

"Jesus! What?" Chibs replied, his heart had kicked it into double-time. Happy rarely got worked up about anything, and he certainly hadn't been expecting a sudden outburst from an injured Happy.

"Brooklyn!"

Chibs raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Quinn's other daughter," Happy explained. "Irving implied he'd already sent men there."

Chibs's grip on the wheel tightened. "Where is she living?"

"Fucked if I know," Happy replied, shutting his eyes against the too bright sunlight. "Red Willow, maybe?" He couldn't be certain, she'd hated the life, and had the strong desire to put distance between her and her father.

Chibs slowed at a stop sign, but didn't stop, the cops behind him gave him a warning 'woop, woop' of their sirens. He fought back the urge to flip them off.

Happy still had Indiana's phone, and started going through her contacts, coming across her sister's name. He hit the call button, and waited with a terrible feeling as the line just kept ringing, ringing, ringing. "Fuck! I have to tell Quinn," Happy growled as he continued recalling the number, hoping for a different result.

Chibs held his breath a few seconds, listening to phone ring and remain unanswered. "Yeah, you do, Brother."

::

Brooklyn tossed the full bag of groceries at the man before running by him, her phone behind her started to ring. She cursed herself for not grabbing it, but didn't have time to go back. She skirted around the body of her husband, and made a mad dash down the hallway. She almost made it to RJ's room before the man got hold of a fist full of hair and yanked her back a step. She screamed, and RJ's cries were frantic. "Mama!" He called, returning to loud cries, the persistent ringing joining the noise.

She struggled but he was much stronger, easily shoving her against the wall, picture frames becoming skewed, or knocked over completely. Glass shards littered the floor and while she remained only in her socks, she didn't feel a thing as she fought to survive. She reached up and grabbed a family picture and swung it over the back of her head, feeling satisfied when it connected and gave her a moment to escape his hold. She ran a few feet and grabbed a lamp, turning as she swung, but he caught her wrist and twisted viciously. She screamed, dropping the improvised weapon when she felt something pop and the pain shot through her arm.

He fought her onto the floor, the almost forgotten knife pulled from his belt. "That's enough, bitch." He drew his arm back and she reached out and grabbed the lamp, swinging it across his head. He fell over to the side and she quickly crawled into RJ's room, slamming the door and grabbing the full sized dinner chair they used for story time, and sliding it under the doorknob.

The banging on the other side of the door had tears falling down her cheeks. "Oh my God, oh my God."

"Mama! Mama!"

"Baby, it's okay," she rushed to RJ's crib and discovered quickly she couldn't lift him with both hands. She folded down the crib's side and scooped him onto her right side, balancing him on her hip. "Hold onto Mama," she insisted. "Just hold on."

Going out the door wasn't an option, the man on the other side continued banging, shouting threats and profanities. Brooklyn went straight for the window. "Fuck." She cursed her messed up wrist, she set RJ down on his feet, and he held onto her pant leg. She pulled the window up with her good hand, and picked her son back up. "Hold on, Mama's going to get us out of here, okay."

The boy just continued crying while she dragged her body through the window and out onto the pitched roof over their wrap-around deck. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," she tried to keep balance as she walked along the diagonal angle. She looked out to her car. Keys and phone still in the kitchen. "Fuck!" She rushed to the edge and looked over. She cursed again as she sat down, dangling her legs over the edge. She didn't think the drop would cause major injury, but she had her son in her arms and that changed everything. "Hold onto Mama, okay," she kissed her boy's temple, "I won't let anything happen to you."

She jumped, landed on both feet, stumbled a few steps, and knowing she'd go down, she twisted to fall on her back, protecting her son from the fall. She sucked in a few deep breaths and got back up. The glass shards in her feet shot pain through her but she ran to her car, opening the driver's door and plopping her son down in the front passenger side. No time for car seat buckles!

She opened the glove box, and pulled out a knife, a gift from practically another life, one from Dax. Everyone in that life carried a knife, and so he'd made sure she had one too. She didn't want it in the house, in case RJ got his clever hands on it, but she couldn't bear to get rid of it either, so it sat in the glove box of her car- thank God. She popped off the panel and prayed she remembered how to do this. She looked over her shoulder as she yanked out a handful of wires. She used the knife and jumped when she heard the door slam open. She swiped exposed wires over one another. "Come on! Come on!" The car purred as it came to life and she jumped into her seat, slammed the door and hit the auto-locks. She looked out the window at the man running towards them. She put the car in drive, stomped on the gas and peeled down the street.

::

"Anything?" Chibs asked as he and Happy walked down the hall in St. Thomas.

"No, she's not fucking answering." Happy had known Quinn for his entire adult life, respected him, and even admired him. He knew, without a doubt, that for Quinn, family was everything. There was nothing he wouldn't do for a brother, and obviously, there was nothing he wouldn't do for his girls. Now, not only did those photographs left on Indiana's desk make a pretty convincing case that Happy had been hooking up with his baby girl, but now Happy had to deliver the bad news about Brooklyn.

"Hap, you need to see a doctor," Chibs insisted once again. "You aren't even close to walking a straight line."

"Not now," he growled. First, he needed to see Quinn and tell him about Brooklyn, and then he needed find out about Indiana.

Chibs cursed Happy's stubborn streak, and stayed close, worried the man would simply fall over. He walked ahead a few steps to push open the door they'd been directed to, mostly because he figured if Happy did it, the concussed man would fall right through. They joined Jax, Juice, and Minion, who were giving Quinn and Tink space. The two sat side by side, Quinn looking the most defeated that any of them had ever seen, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands on his head. Tink sat fully upright, dry blood still on her hands, the sticky note she'd tried to decipher in her hands.

"Gimme a minute," Happy requested quietly.

"Ethan Zobelle," Tink said softly. "That's the second name on here. Ethan Zobelle."

The news hit the men from Charming, and Jax cursed a blue streak. "Zobelle!"

"Irving was his nephew," Happy supplied. "They're pissed with us because of what happened to Polly." Which brought him back to the threat on daughters. "I need a minute with Rane."

Since Jax was stewing in rage, Chibs took it upon himself to ask the obvious, "You sure that's a wise choice, brother?" Happy just glared and Chibs shrugged. "Alright."

"We need to bring this to church." Jax could barely contain his anger, the very thought of Zobelle made his trigger finger itch.

"We still have to give statements," Minion said. "Cops are waiting."

Jax cursed, but he went to the former Nomad President and put his hand on his shoulder. "We're all here for you brother, don't forget that." Quinn didn't respond, he didn't move at all.

Jax turned to Tink, who gave him a nod. "Take care of that shitstorm, I've got this one," she nodded her head in her husband's direction. Jax nodded, and lead the men out. Chibs didn't like it, but he followed last, leaving Happy behind. Tink stood, studied her husband and then walked over to Happy. "I'll be right outside the door."

He nodded and waited until the door shut behind her. While he wanted to smooth over the damage he'd surely done to their friendship, he feared there wasn't any time for it. "Rane?"

The big man could move fast, and Quinn stood, closed the space between them and knocked him right onto the ground with one big swing of his fist. "She's my little girl, you son of a bitch!" He reached down and grabbed the front of Happy's shirt, because he had issues with kicking a brother when he's down. "What the fuck are you doing with my kid?" Happy's vision went hazy, and he fought to remain conscious. "Fucking answer me, asshole!"

'It's not what it looked like' sat on the tip of his tongue, and he knew how bad it sounded. "I don't know," he grumbled, trying half-heartedly to push Quinn away.

"Fucking shit, you don't know what you're doing with her?" The big man shook Happy like a ragdoll. "She just a piece of pussy to you?"

"No! Fuck!"

Quinn shook him again. "Then fucking what?"

"I care about that fucking little Hellcat, okay?" Happy growled back. "I give a fuck about her."

Quinn relented a little. Happy wouldn't lie and say he gave a fuck if he didn't, and giving a fuck for him was probably as close as the man would ever get to professing undying love. Didn't mean Quinn didn't want to beat the shit out of the man, but it looked like someone had beaten him to the punch. Having more than enough on his plate, and not wanting hospital security to find them fighting, he dragged Happy to his feet and then over to a chair. "You look like shit."

"I feel like shit," Happy confessed, knowing damn well he should have listened to Chibs, but he had his reasons. "I know I'm not your favourite person right now, but Brooklyn's in trouble."

Quinn dropped down into the next seat. "What?"

"Something Irving said. Few years ago, Ethan Zobelle had a daughter," he lowered his voice, "Gemma shot her dead. He's had a hate on for the club, lost a lot of money because of us, lost his daughter. He and Irving have been bleeding Diosa, but they wanted to cause more personal damage. Eye for an eye retaliation."

"Daughter for daughter," Quinn snarled.

"Yeah."

Quinn shook his head. "I wasn't even involved."

"I really don't think they give a shit. You're respected in this club, you have daughters, and if something happens to them, the entire club is going to feel it through you." Happy wished the lights weren't so fucking bright. "He confirmed that his crew killed Herb, he told Indie that her sister might already be dead. I've been calling on Brooke on Indiana's phone. She's not picking up."

The horror of the situation took a minute to sink in, while Quinn cellphone rang in his kutte. He pulled it out and stared at the unfamiliar number, cursing. "If this is a telemarketer," he muttered before answering. "Yeah?" He heard crying, the cries of a child, and that of a woman. "Brooke?" Happy sat straighter hearing the hope in the other man's voice.

_"_ _Dad, there was a man in the house-"_

"Where are you?"

 _"_ _Side of the road, payphone,"_ she replied. _"Just outside of San Francisco."_

"Are you hurt?"

She sniffled, and he heard her crying. _"I'm okay, I think."_

"Your kid?"

_"_ _He's fine, scared, but fine."_

"Your husband?"

She sobbed. _"Dead."_

Quinn closed his eyes. "Okay, baby. I'm in Charming. Can you get here safely?"

_"_ _Yeah. Where do I go once in Charming?"_

"I'm at Saint Thomas right now, but you go to Teller-Morrow, it's under lockdown but tell them who you are. I'll call ahead, they'll keep you safe."

_"_ _St. Thomas, isn't that a hospital? Everything okay?"_

"Yeah." He worried about telling her what happened to her sister. She would be driving with enough emotional baggage. "Just something I have to deal with. You get to Teller-Morrow."

_"_ _Okay. I'll see you there… Dad?"_

"Yeah?"

_"_ _I don't hate you."_

He rubbed his eyes which had decided to tear up at the sentiment, after all 'I fucking hate you' was the last thing she had said to him before leaving Sanctuary. "Love you, Baby Girl."

She sobbed again, and sniffled. _"Love you, Dad."_

"She good?" Happy asked as soon as Quinn hung up.

"Shaken for sure, but she said she and the kid are fine." He ran his hands over his face. "Zobelle is mine."

"I'm sure you're going to have to fight Jax for that one," Happy muttered.

"Zobelle is mine," Quinn snarled. "He put my girls into this." Not only was Indiana fighting for her life, but Brooklyn and her son had been put into danger, her husband murdered. Retaliation would be his.

Happy shrugged. Not his battle. He looked over to the locked doors to the surgical rooms. He could manage his own pain, but he was exposed to a new level of hell knowing that doctors on the other side of those doors were trying to keep her alive. "Did they say anything in the ambulance?"

"Nothing good," Quinn replied quietly, he too looking over at those doors. "She flat-lined twice on the way here. They didn't look to optimistic. Haven't heard a thing since." Happy nodded, his vision narrowing, and he barely heard Quinn say his name before it was lights out.


	48. Weight

Quinn and Tink stood in the hallway of the Intensive Care Unit. The big man leaned his back against the wall, wished for a cigarette, and shook his head. Given that his daughter had pulled through surgery, he didn't imagine any problem in seeing her, alive but unwell. Yet, the image of his youngest laying still in the bed with machines monitoring her condition, a nasal cannula providing her with extra oxygen, a tube stuck out of her chest to stabilize her lung haunted him.

"She looked fucking terrible," he muttered. A cigarette wouldn't cut it. He needed a stiff drink. Or ten. He couldn't get that image of those dark circles under her eyes out of his mind, she'd looked as though she'd lost ten pounds over the course of the afternoon.

"She's breathing, mostly on her own. They got the bleeding stopped," Tink replied, running her hands through her short dark hair. "If the next couple of hours pass without incident, she'll likely be labelled in stable condition."

Quinn ran his hands over his face, and checked his watch. As much as he wanted to stay, to be in the hospital with his Little Anarchist, Brooklyn would be arriving at the Charming clubhouse soon, and he needed to be there too. Torn, he turned to Tink. "Brooke needs me. The club needs me. There has to be retaliation for this," he pointed an angry finger at the door which his daughter laid behind.

Doctors walked by, footsteps, and chatter filled in the hallway as Tink remained silent for a moment. A large part of her wanted him to stay with her and Indiana, the family they had always been. Yet, she knew him, knew the club, he and the club needed to retaliate immediately. The wife warred with the Old Lady. Finally, she sighed. "I know." With a nod, she gave him a shooing gesture of her hand. "Go. I'll take care of things here." She peeked into the little window on the door which gave her a view of Indiana. "I'll go check on Happy. He must be giving the nurses absolute hell by now."

Seeing her sadness, Quinn pulled his wife close, and captured her lips. A great need for the comfort and stability she provided overwhelmed him. He really didn't know where he would be in life without her, somehow she wasn't just his destination, but his compass as well, constantly guiding him when he lost his way. He kissed her once more. "I love you, Allison."

"I love you too, Rane," she whispered. "Be safe. Say hello to Brooke for me."

::

Jax, Juice, Chibs, and Minion had told the bare minimum to get the police off their backs. Mostly they told the truth- that they didn't know what happened. They had put some of the pieces together, but Jax was focussed almost entirely on Ethan Zobelle. The fact that that scum was calling shots left him feeling sick. He didn't want to tell his mother, but knew that one way or the other, she'd find out eventually and be royally pissed if she was left out of the loop.

More than that, Zobelle was an old problem rearing its ugly head. Diosa was crashing, despite finding out who took the money, they had not reclaimed any of it. Toric still had eyes on Tara, with a side desire of destroying the club. Oh, and their issues with the IRA like a rotten cherry on top. All these problems, especially one coming back to haunt them years later needed to be handled in an efficiently ruthless way. The Redwood Originals had called in other brothers, this shit made the Mother charter look weak, like they couldn't handle their own business.

Jax remained on his bike, smoking a cigarette. Chibs, next to him, lit up as well. "This is a fucking mess, Jackie-Boy."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Jax muttered back, earning him a quick kick to the shin.

Chibs inhaled deeply and blew a smoke ring. "We sure could use Hap right about now."

Jax irritably picked at the leather seat of his Harley. He had been thinking the same thing. Unfortunately for them, they'd have to do without their most ruthless enforcer since Happy would remain out for a while with the concussion. "How about you tell me something I don't know."

"The Romans used to clean and whiten their teeth with urine." Jax slowly pulled his cigarette from his lips, and shot Chibs a dumbfounded look. "What?" Chibs asked with a shrug. "You told me to tell you something you didn't know."

"Yeah, and I could have kept on not knowing it! Jesus! Where do you even get this shit?"

Chibs grinned. "I read."

"Okay, well then, tell me something useful," Jax requested. Chibs remained quiet. The blond rolled his eyes. "Asshole."

"We need to tackle one problem at a time," Chibs decided at last, completely ignoring the insult. He paused, as Gemma approached and nodded his head to give Jax a heads up. "Gem."

"Hey boys," she greeted, but it lacked her usual enthusiasm. Instead, she looked tired and worried. "How's Quinn's kid?"

"He texted a little while ago, she's made it through surgery," Jax replied, eyeing the ripped open envelope in his mother's hand. "How's Nero?"

"Pissed," Gemma replied with a huff of breath. "The Byz-Latz are going to want in on this shit, let them help. A lot of them are having financial troubles because of that asshole Irving. Did Tink ever get the second name?"Jax looked to Chibs, who promptly got off his bike, and made himself scarce. Gemma noticed the retreat. "Well, that's not a good sign."

"Mom," Jax paused, trying to control in his rage. "It's Zobelle." He watched her expression, the shock hitting like a punch to the gut, the first attempt to school her expression, and the crumpling hit of pain. He grabbed her hand. "We'll deal with him."

"I'm sure you boys will," Gemma passed the envelope. "You and Quinn aren't the only ones with motive now." Jax pulled out the papers from the envelope. Photographs. "Quinn's kid was sent pictures like this, there are a few more of her in here too. Some of Fawn. Some of-"

The warning went unfinished as Jax paused his quick scan of the photographs. "Ellie." His best friend's daughter. "Jesus Christ."

"Time to pull Lyla in with those kids," Gemma said. "Whether she likes it or not."

Jax nodded. No way would he leave Opie's daughter, his fucking goddaughter out there to be a pawn in a twisted game of revenge. Zobelle needed to be dealt with. Immediately. He continued looking, Indiana, Fawn, a brunette he didn't know, Ellie. He saw the pattern. "All daughters of SOA members." He tapped the pictures against the seat. "We destroyed a pretty lucrative deal for them here in Charming."

"And in return, he's ruined Diosa," Gemma said, following her son's logic.

"You killed Polly Zobelle."

"And he wants to kill the daughters of club members." Gemma shook her head. "Fucking coward. If he wants retaliation, he should come get it." She angrily tapped her fingers against the photos. "Not target a bunch of uninvolved women."

Jax dismounted, and kissed his mother's cheek. "You stay here. If you need something, you send a prospect or some shit. You don't leave." Gemma crossed her heart, and headed back to the office. Jax walked over to where Chibs had sat down and shared a cigarette with Maureen. "Chibs, church. Redwood only. We need to figure our shit out."

Chibs stubbed out his cigarette, shot Maureen a grin, and pulled out his phone to call those who were away.

::

"I ain't fucking changing into some motherfucking gown!"

Tink smiled and walked right into the room. The nurse jumped in surprise, holding the patient gown. "I'm sorry, you can't be here right now."

"Please, I'm your saving grace," Tink replied with a grin. "You're never going to get him into that while he's conscious, so you might want to save your breath." The nurse huffed out an annoyed breath, muttered something about biker trash, and walked out.

Happy, who sat upright, his legs dangling over the edge of the bed, stared at her. "I'm surprised you didn't cold clock the bitch."

"I think I have enough to worry about without adding hospital security to the list," she replied. "Lay down."

"I'm fine."

"Happy I-Don't-Know-Your-Middle-Name Lowman, we do this the easy way or the hard way," she told him in that no-nonsense way mothers had down pat. "The easy way is you lay the fuck down. The hard way is I find a doctor willing to dope your ass, and I'll make sure you end up in that hospital gown after all. Do not test me. I'm not having a good day."

For form, he glared at her for a full ten seconds before relenting. He shifted and laid back down. The smallest of smiles graced her face at the victory. His head still ached, and his jaw certainly sported a bruise from Quinn, but it all paled in comparison to Indiana's condition, the salt in his wounds. "How's Indie?"

"Out of surgery," she replied, sitting on the side of the bed and taking his hand in an act of solidarity. "She's holding on. I think she's going to be okay."

He ran his free hand over his face as relief warred with guilt. "It never should have happened."

She shrugged. "We can't change it."

"But it shouldn't have fucking happened!" Happy growled. "Irving called her. Told her that he'd kill me if she didn't follow his orders." He shook his head. "Why the hell did she do that?"

Tink's blue eyes stared at him for a long moment. He imagined her rage, after all, he had been the bait in a scheme that got her daughter shot. She should be mad, and indeed she looked it. "You're lucky you have a concussion, or I'd slap you," she said evenly, her tone that of a marginally annoyed mother, who is sick of being asked 'why.' "Imagine the situation is reversed. Travis called you, he has Indiana, what do you do?"

He scoffed. "That's different."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Men. Idiotic, insufferable, incorrigible men!" She let out a long-suffering sigh. "Hap," she said softly. "Women are capable of doing remarkably brave things. We too are capable of sacrifice and loyalty. Indiana, she's kinder than most. When she got that call, don't think for a second that she thought of herself. She thought of you." She squeezed his hand again. "I'm going to see if the doctors have anything to say about her condition. I'll be back to see you later. Do not leave while I'm gone." Her eyes narrowed. "Mark my words, I'll have someone drag you back, knock you out, and get you in that gown."

Happy waited until Tink was out of the room before he sighed. Naturally, she was right. He knew, deep down, that Indiana understood what she would walk into. When he thought of the way she quickly dispatched Irving, and the first of his men, he realized he was so fucking proud of her. No hesitation on that first, clean shot. She came in with a basic outline of how everything would go down. The moment she pulled that gun, she knew that the guards would turn to her, she had to. She had protected him. And he remained in that hospital room, struggling under the weight of that.

::

"Are we ready?" Jax asked Chibs, when he came into the clubhouse. The envelope of photographs were rolled tucked into the back pocket of his jeans.

"Just waiting on Quinn," Chibs replied. "He's on his way." Being a father himself, he couldn't imagine how difficult it had to be to walk away from his injured daughter. "Tig got in a few minutes ago. Talked to Fawn, as of right now, she's still refusing to come in under lockdown. I sent out a couple of Tacoma brothers to keep eyes on her."

"Good." Last thing they needed was another one of SAMCRO's girls hurt… or worse.

The door opened and Lorca walked in with the same brunette woman from the photographs. "Hey, Jax! Quinn called and said to let this one in."

"Yeah, thanks." Jax walked over to the woman, there were a multitude of cuts on her face, hands and arms, pieces of glass still shone in a few of the wounds. She only had socks on her feet, and left little bloody prints where she walked. In her arms, a small boy rested. With the photographs and the clearance from Quinn, he quickly put two and two together. "You must be one of Quinn's."

"Is he here?" she asked.

"Not yet. He should be here soon." Jax looked around and made eye contact with Tara, waving her over. "What's your name?"

"Brooklyn."

Jax tilted his head. "Does all of Quinn's kids have places for names?"

Brooklyn huffed out a breath. "Where we were conceived. Classy, right?"

He smirked. "Let my wife take a look at you. She's a doctor." She held the boy closer, and looked frightened. "Let me take the boy-"

"The hell you will," she spat and took a step back.

"Hi," Tara said softly. "You look like you could use a little help."

Brooklyn glared at her, and took yet another step back, bumping into a solid body. She whirled around, adrenaline crashing through her. "Angus?"

"Brooke!" He replied, surprised. His Old Lady was currently a wreck after hearing about what happened to Indiana, but he wouldn't let her leave the clubhouse until this lockdown was lifted- and thus, he was now on the shit-list and he'd been kicked out of his own room. "Jesus." He took in the injuries and checked the boy over. "What the fuck happened?"

She shrugged, avoiding the question. "Is Dad still at Saint Thomas?"

"He'll be here soon," he assured her smoothly. "He stayed with Indie until she got out of surgery."

Her eyes widened. "Surgery? What happened? Is she okay?"

He winced. He hated being the bearer of bad news. The door opened, and he thanked his lucky stars when Quinn walked in. Angus flagged him down in the busy clubhouse, and the big man walked over.

"What happened to Indie?" Brooklyn snapped immediately. "Was what happened to my husband an isolated incident, or is it related to all that shit Tink and Indie called to warn me about?"

"Let's go talk in the back," Quinn insisted quietly, immediately realizing his daughter needed medical attention for the superficial wounds. "You need to get looked at yourself." He turned to Tara who nodded and followed them as he led his daughter down the hallway and into the room he had been sharing with Tink. "Take a seat."

"What happened?" Brooklyn demanded.

"Indiana was shot. She in the hospital. Surgery went as well as can be expected."

"Jesus Christ," She adjusted her son, and then turned to Tara. "You really a doctor?"

"Surgeon," Tara replied. "I specialized in pediatric surgery."

Brooklyn's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Huh."

"I'm going to go get my kit, I can see glass slivers from here," Tara said. "I'll give you guys a few minutes." She quietly left the room.

Brooklyn took her attention from the door, to her father. "So…"

"Can I see him?" He asked, unable to contain the request any longer. His first grandchild, one he'd never held.

"My husband is dead," Brooklyn said flatly. "Killed by a man who would have killed me, and done who-knows-what to RJ. Was it random, or did it have something to do with what happened here to Indie, or what happened in Red Willow with Tink?"

Quinn ran his hands through his hair. "It was an enemy of SAMCRO."

Brooklyn nodded. "Indie was right."

"What?"

"Something she said once before I left," Brooklyn walked a little closer to her father and handed him over her son. "You can't escape blood. I'm not sure if she meant blood as a family term, or as violence… I guess in this family, it could mean either."

He looked down at the tired boy, who didn't seem to mind being in a strangers arms. He just rested his head against Quinn's shoulder and went back to sleep. He turned to his daughter. The cuts proved what a fight she'd put up at the hands of a madman, and only prodded the hot coals of his rage. His girls were fighters, he'd give them that, but as a father, he wanted nothing more than to be able to protect them, keep them from ever having to fight in the first place. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I'll survive," she replied, running her hand over RJ's dark hair. "I always do."

"What's his name?" Quinn asked, inspecting the slightly freckled face, and the same pouty lips his mother had.

"RJ," she replied, and caught her father's questioning look. She took a deep breath. "Rane Junior. I know it's more traditional to name a kid after the father, but," she shrugged, not wanting to explain her reasoning.

A couple of soft knocks on the door were followed by Tara poking her head in. "You ready for me?"

"Yeah," Brooklyn replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed. She felt strength once again. Despite the loss of her husband, she oddly felt free despite the fact that she realized she should feel guilty. Her entire life she had kept people at a safe distance, despite living with and having a child with Brian, she felt no permanent attachment to the man. She liked him well enough, would mourn the loss of his life, but would move on. After all, moving on was what she was good at.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has been so motivational and inspiring in their reviews lately, thank you so much :D


	49. Keep It Together

Gemma spent the next few hours in the office. Work held no appeal, but the solitude did. The clubhouse felt claustrophobic with so many people packed inside like a can of sardines. Normally, she'd be there, making her presence known. Not now, not right at the moment. With Zobelle on the mind, she didn't want to risk allowing people to see her in such a state.

Her thumb brushed along her lower lip. Oh, Lord, no way in hell would she let anyone see her absolutely tingling with fear. _Fear_ , for fuck sakes! And now, she also had Maureen and Fiona here, she sure as hell wouldn't allow any questions as to just who reigned supreme in this house! So, she gave herself a while. She sipped on coffee- well, if one could call what the 'coffee maker' in the garage produced coffee. She flipped through work papers, but didn't do much filing. She did paint her fingernails a confident red, because fuck, she needed the boost.

The ache in her shoulders intensified, a reminder of her age, of the stress that came with the life. She'd survived it- even when her two husbands had not. Zobelle would not be what took her down. No fucking way.

Still, it worried her. She had killed Zobelle's daughter. As a mother, she could sympathise with the madness that came along when one lost a child. She went through it with her Tommy, but that was an illness, she could not exact revenge upon a defect- although, she had been angry with herself for a long time for passing it along to the son she would lose. She had no doubt that Zobelle would try to kill her, or perhaps more accurately, have someone kill her.

She opened her purse and pulled out her beloved Glock 21. Ejecting the clip, she admired the .45 bullets. They'd put a good hole in someone. She slammed the clip back in place and returned the gun to her purse. Glancing up at the clock on the wall, she gave herself another ten minutes to pull it together, and then she'd make sure her presence was known.

::

The word of what happened in Charming had spread far and wide. It passed through bikers themselves in some cases, others it was sweetbutts that gossiped from charter to charter, more rarely did it get passed by hang arounds, but whatever the case, word travelled fast.

The news hit Harry, former SAA for the Nomads, when he landed in Los Angeles. He had the firm belief that bikers… well, that they rode bikes. As a Nomad, he long ago became accustom to long rides, and New York to Charming would be a good long one. Bikers who flew their bikes to different locals were fucking posers in his eyes. Old school views, perhaps, but fuck, he was getting up there and stuck in his ways. Still, there were exceptions to the rules- emergencies. When Rane Quinn called him and said there is shit going down in Charming, Harry labelled it an emergency. Quinn didn't make a habit of calling out of state brothers unless shit was going down, and they really fucking needed the back up.

Now, as he checked his messages while sitting on his motorcycle, ready for the ride to Charming, did he find one left from Quinn. _Indiana was shot._ And while the message got into more detail, more detail was not needed. She was his goddaughter, the closest thing he had to a kid of his own. Not that he had the makings of a good father, he'd be the first to admit that he didn't. But he considered Quinn family, and that came with Tink and Indiana, hell he was godfather of Brooklyn and Sydney too. Sweet kid, the Girl was, and he'd be damned if her being wounded wouldn't come with major vengeance.

He checked the first leg of directions, memorized them and took off, scaring those in the parking lot as his motorcycle hit fifty while still in the underground.

::

Church had been a heated affair. When Quinn had come in, the air seemed electrified by his anger. Zobelle, it seemed, would be served on a first come, first serve basis, since neither Jax nor Quinn had relented. First, they'd have to find the bastard. Jax had given Juice the job.

Now, Tig sat at the bar alone. Jax had gone out to bring in Lyla and the kids, Chibs went with him since Happy was still in the hospital. Quinn, had gone to check on one of his kids, the curvy brunette. During another time Tig wouldn't mind tapping that, hell, even the cuts on her face weren't deterring him. Right now though, his mind was on his one surviving daughter, Fawn.

Jax had shown the table the photographs. Indiana, Brooklyn, Fawn, and Ellie. An obvious threat to the daughters. Chibs looked almost relieved, Tig couldn't fault the man for it. Kerrianne was unknown in the area- still, it wouldn't take long for these assholes to put two and two together. Chibs, Tig knew, wanted this ended just as quickly as the rest of them did- end the threat to his daughter before it even began.

He poured a shot and slammed it back. The burn gave him a brief distraction from the mess of his mind. What to do about Fawn? She wouldn't come in for protection… well, she'd hate it, hate him more if he made her. He wondered if he could convince Isaiah that it was safest, she might just listen to him. Worth a shot, he decided.

::

Brooklyn liked Tara. She wouldn't say so, but she did. Adept, intelligent, kind, it was a nice change to the suburbanites Brooklyn had grown accustom to dealing with. Tara had wrapped up her sprained wrist, cleaned her wounds, and carefully stitched up a slash in her arm. The painkillers had taken the worst of the edge off, but left her a little sleepy. Tara had offered to take care of RJ, but had sensed Brooklyn's unease, and had let her off with a knowing smile. Brooklyn liked her even more for that, that simple moment of understanding without making her explain herself.

She'd have to thank Tara later, force herself not to be such a self-relying bitch, because, fuck, she sure as hell couldn't have managed the blood all over without passing out. Tara had even helped her get undressed, because thanks ribs which ached like a fucking bitch, and when Brooklyn got out of the shower, she found a clean pair of clothes waiting. She and Tara weren't the same size, Brooklyn being bigger pretty much everywhere and taller to boot, but the button up which might have been loose on Tara fit Brooklyn snuggly. The black denim shorts hugged her curves, and she had the suspicion that Tara had 'liberated' them from one of the sweetbutts. Clothes without blood, she sure wouldn't argue.

When she emerged from the bathroom, she found RJ giggling on the bed, her father making goofy faces that he surely wouldn't do in front of his brothers. Another funny face and RJ fell over on his side he laughed so hard. She leaned against the doorway and smiled. A part of her wondered if he'd ever made such silly faces at her back when she'd been too young to remember. She doubted it. Her mother had barred him unless she found some way for him to be useful to her. Helena Leto had a hard, selfish soul… if she had a soul at all. As bad as it sounded, Brooklyn found herself less stressed and much happier after her mother died.

There were a few knocks on the door. "Quinn?"

Brooklyn's heart leapt to her throat when she heard the voice. God, it had been years.

"Yeah," Quinn replied. "Come in."

She took a step back, hating herself for the slight retreat. Obviously, he didn't notice her. He looked perplexed by seeing Quinn with a small child. A little smile touched her lips, so he did still wear his dark hair long. Mustache gone, and clean shaven he looked a little younger. Years had been kind to him, his lean muscular build adorned by tattoos, some old, a few new. "Heard about Indie," Dax said. "How is she doing?"

"Tink called about ten minutes ago," relief evident in Quinn's voice, "They've taken her off the critical list."

Dax blew out a breath, a cigarette twirling around his finger. "Good." He looked at the child again, and kindly put the cancer stick away. Stupid little things about him always got to Brooklyn. Hundreds of them. The way his smile was never quite even. Passing her the last bit of whatever junk food they'd shared. Now she added 'putting away cigarette in presence of her child' or any child, for he didn't yet know- to the list. "You babysittin'?" an edge of disbelief in his voice.

Quinn just turned, having heard the door open a while back. "Kinda."

Dax followed the line of sight. "Brooke?" His eyebrows furrowed as a perplexed expression crossed his face.

She shifted from one foot to the other. "Hey."

Quinn picked up RJ. "I'm going to take him to the swings, okay?"

"He's too little for swings," Brooklyn replied quickly. She hurried out of the bathroom and took her son back into her arms. The thought of the man in her house, the violence that had transpired. She lost her husband, but she couldn't bear being separated from her son right now.

"There is a baby swing, was set up here back when Jax's eldest was born, I think."

"No," she said quickly, holding the boy close. "He stays with me. He stays with me." Her voice edged on hysterics and she told herself to get a grip.

Her father's soothing hand ran over her hair. "Okay, okay. RJ stays with you. It's okay, Brooke." He looked to Dax, who shrugged. "I'm going to see if Juice has anything." He looked at his daughter and then back to Dax. "You might want to see him when you're done. He could probably use your help."

"Yeah, sure," Dax replied, and waited until Quinn had left. Feeling awkward, he took his cigarette back out, put it to his lips, pulled it back out and twirled it around his fingers wishing he could just light the damn thing. Forcefully, he shoved it back in his pocket. "Didn't expect you to be here."

She turned from him. There had been no anger in his voice, just a simple observation but it set her blood on boil. Carefully she laid RJ down on the bed and covered him up. "Nap time, Sweetie."

"Dada?"

Of course, Brian typically read the boy to sleep. "Sorry, RJ. No story today." Her mind couldn't even recall Humpty Dumpty at the moment. "Sleep, and then… I'll get you ice cream, okay?"

"Lub, Mama."

"Love you too, baby." Her toddler had always been a good sleeper. She walked to the desk and sat down on it, while Dax took the chair.

He reached up and gently gripped her chin, turning her head to one side then the other. "Your husband do this?" he asked, his voice low, husky.

She reached up and gripped his wrist to pull his hand away. "No. He was… he-" she choked on the sob that came up so suddenly it shocked her. Suddenly, Dax was standing before her, that solid wall of protection, and understanding. God, he had been the best friend she'd ever had. A very well equipped best friend with amazing benefits. She rested her head against his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist, hands in his back pockets. "He'd dead."

"I'm sorry," he murmured into her hair.

"I don't know how long he was lying there, RJ crying in his crib, before I got home," she sniffled. "What if he'd done something to RJ?" A tremor ran through her, and Dax's arms wrapped around her, one hand on the back of her head, fingertips circling- something he'd done only after she'd once told him how much she enjoyed it. Hard to believe that he still remembered such a simple thing, and how odd that that gesture soothed her more than words ever could.

"Did you get a good look at him?" he asked. "Any tattoos?"

"Dressed head to toe in black. Wore a fucking ski mask," she shuddered again. "Kept waving his knife around. Black leather gloves," she muttered.

He tilted her head back again, studying the cuts along her face. "You hurt?"

"My wrist and arm are the worst of it, Tara says I'll heal up just fine in a couple weeks," she replied pulling out of his grasp and dropping her head. She didn't want him to see the ugly cuts, but he kept grabbing her chin and she kept pulling back. "Knock it off."

"You knock it off," he replied. "God, you always were a vain creature."

Now, for the sake of her stubborn will, she stared directly at him. He grinned, triumphantly. Asshole.

"You're staying here until this shit is settled."

He managed to say it halfway between a question and a statement. She suspected if she said no, that he'd find some way to make her stay. While she might have taken off before, she now had her son to think about. "I'm staying."

He nodded. "Good." She bowed her head again, and once again he grabbed her chin. She glared at him. "You're still as fucking beautiful as the day I met you."

Her eyes widened and he kissed her brow. "You should rest up. I doubt your son's naptime will last long with how loud this clubhouse is. I'm going to go see how Juice is doing with all this. If you need me, you know I'm here for you, right?"

She managed a small nod, and then he was gone. Her hands trembled. Sweet Jesus. How did that man manage to do this to her all the time? He left her standing on a tightrope, fighting to balance, and just when she was about to fall, he'd catch her- every single time.

"Mama?" RJ looked at her sleepily. "Lub?"

Love. That just could be the answer. "Silly boy, go back to sleep."

He giggled, wiggled a bit under the sheet and settled once again.

Yeah, she thought, love just might be the answer, but it had been part of what made her take off running years previous. Potential prison time, threats, guns, violence, brawls, police, lockdowns and raids, all that shit outweighed the friendship, family, and love. Hadn't it?

She bit her bottom lip. She'd ran, and she'd been miserable. Had leaving been the right course of action? She'd left a man who treated her right, who created such a spark in her that more than once she'd been left completely speechless, whom she loved, and went the safe route. What had that gotten her? The danger of her old life had come back with a vengeance anyway. She looked at RJ. Just how much could she risk? For now, she had to stay, for safety's sake. She'd deal with what came after… later. For now, she took up Dax's suggestion and snuggled down in bed with her son and tried to get some rest for her stressed out nerves.

::

Tink tapped Happy's discharge forms. "If I sign these, I expect you to stay around the hospital here with me. You won't be riding off with the guys, even if they do get you a spare bike. You won't be driving off in a van. You certainly won't be in on any retaliation."

Happy glared. He just wanted her to sign them. And fuck it all, yes, he wanted to be in on retaliation. "I'm the fucking SAA."

"I don't care if you're the Queen of England," Tink replied, giving him her no-nonsense glare in return. "You still have a concussion. You've got bruises everywhere, not to mention a couple cracked ribs. You're in no condition to be leaving. I will sign these papers, give you freedom from the hospital bed, but you're sticking with me."

At least this way, he might be able to see Indiana when she woke up. For once in his life, he needed to be an optimist. The thought of her not waking up sickened him to the core. "Fine."

Tink signed the papers with a flourish. "I'll get these to the nurse. Stay put."

He watched her leave and settled back against the pillows. The doctor had put him in the clear, but warned about dizziness, and if he passed out again, he'd be put right back in the hospital bed. He figured it likely that he should stay longer, but the nurses all wanted his cranky ass out of their hair.

Tink returned in less than five minutes. "Come on, want some cafeteria food?"

 _Not really._ He shrugged and slowly stood, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

She raised an eyebrow. "You good?"

The world righted itself. "Yeah." He followed her out of the room and down the hallway to the elevator. They waited and when the doors slid open, a couple of people stepped out, one crying. Hospitals- fucking depressing. "I'd kill for a cigarette."

They stepped in and a few people made themselves busy, looking at signs, instead of joining them in the confined space. The doors slid shut and Tink giggled. "I think you scared our potential fellow passengers."

They stepped out on the main floor and he followed her to the large sterile cafeteria. A few families were eating, but there were plenty sitting alone, staring at their food, picking at it without much appetite. Perhaps they worried about a loved one, or maybe the food really was that bad.

"The wraps aren't bad," she told him.

Despite Tink's recommendation, he skipped the health food bullshit: wraps and salads, the mash looked sketch and the roast beef questionable. Not wanting to risk food poisoning on top of it all, he grabbed an apple. They sat down at one of the tables and quietly ate the simple meals. With the core on the table alongside the bunched up paper wrap, the two remained.

Happy hated hospitals. Most time spent in one was for injuries sustained over the years. Mostly, he was patched up by a brother, Tink when he'd been around Sanctuary, or Tara since coming to Charming. Wanting to take his mind off their environment, and the reason they were stuck in it, he turned to Tink. "Who's taking care of Sanctuary?"

"We closed," Tink replied. "We'd trust Emily to run it if she were there, but of course she came up when she heard what happened to Mac. We have another couple of waitresses, mostly for weekends. Their best assets are their tits and ass, not much for brains. Wouldn't trust 'em not to skim a bit off the top either. So, we just closed up shop until we get back." She rubbed the bridge of her nose and checked the time again. "I hate being away from her. I just keep thinking she'll crash again. Jesus, she did it twice in the ambulance. I didn't even think she'd make it here," she admitted, her voice cracking. "Both Rane and I were rushing our goodbyes."

His heart twisted. They had lost their daughter. Twice. However briefly, they'd lost her. He'd lost her, he just hadn't known it yet. For a brief time, she'd been gone, and fought her way back. His tough little Hellcat. Now, he ached to see her, prove to himself that she was still breathing, that her heart still beat.

Tink quickly swiped the back of her hand over her cheeks. "Jesus Christ. Gimme a minute. I'm going to the ladies." She narrowed her watery blue eyes at him. "You're going to be sitting right there when I get back. Right?"

He nodded, because even he wasn't such a big dickhead that he would leave the woman who was clearly holding on by a thread. "Right here," he rasped. She nodded, and headed off toward the bathrooms.

::

"Ah, Queen Bee has decided to join us once again," Maureen muttered under her breath.

Fiona looked up from her beer, the slight buzz easing her nerves enough to deal with the clubhouse chaos. She watched as Gemma walked with a confidence across the room, she said a few quick hellos, gave what Fiona suspected to be orders to a couple of sweetbutts, and took a seat in the middle of it all. Her response faded when the door opened again and her husband returned with Jax, a statuesque blonde, and three kids. A man came in with them, no kutte, but tattoos. Gang, she suspected. Likely the one SAMCRO had the Diosa business with.

Chibs left the small group, and walked over, taking a seat beside his wife. "Ladies, how are you enjoying yourselves?"

"Just keep supplying the beer, and we'll manage," Maureen responded with a wicked grin. "Speaking of which, I'm out. Be back in a minute."

Fiona kissed her husband, square on the lips the second he turned toward her. "I love you," she murmured against his lips.

"Christ, how much have you had?" he chuckled.

"Not as much as you'd expect," she replied. "Kerrianne is in with Juice, and that long haired fellow, nice man, oh, what is his name?" She ran her thumb along her lower lip. "Dax. Rhymes with Jax, how could I forget? Anyway, she is hovering over them, so we should probably watch and make sure they don't teach her to be a master-hacker. That's really the last thing we need."

"Well, now, our parenting has been a little unconventional over the years."

She rolled her eyes in return, and past him, she saw one of the sweetbutts bring a coffee over to Gemma. "Sharing space with her is going to be hellish, Filip. I might need something stronger than beer."

"It's just for a little while," he promised.

"It better be," she replied. "Have the Irish been in contact?"

"No. Well, SAMBEL's Murphy called," he told her, lowering his voice and leaning in as not to be overheard. "They found Scrum…well… he was left where the clubhouse was. Irish hurt him bad, but left him alive. I don't think they meant him to live, just to suffer a long while, and in the morning, his brother's would find him dead."

"But he lives?"

"For now. They have him in a hospital in Belfast. Looks bad. Murph sounded real choked up about it. He doesn't think he'll make it till tomorrow, much less after that."

Fiona closed her eyes. "They're not done."

"No. They're pissed with the Sons. But, for now it seems, they're retaliating against SAMBEL."

"There will be hell to pay here though, won't there?"

"Likely," he admitted.

"Well," Fiona muttered. "At least we won't be bored."

He took drank half of her beer in one go. "Way to look at the silver-lining, Love."

::

Cricket had been riding toward Charming, going through Bakersfield anyway, so he had passed along the message that he'd check in on Herbert. They'd been Nomad together for years, he'd been sad to see Herbert go out in a motorcycle accident. He almost thought death would be better than not being able to ride.

The little house had a ramp instead of stairs. Fucking sad. It made him fear getting older. Mortality he could take, as long as it took him before he became too decrepit to ride.

With gun in hand, he made his way around back, checking windows as he went. From the back patio door, he could see that going in would be of no assistance. The room a mess of toppled furniture, and blood spatter. Best to leave before cops showed up and pinned him to it. Bullshit like that had happened before.

He didn't like it, leaving a brother in such condition, but had no real option. Dead is dead. He pulled out his phone, and passed the information along to the SAMCRO president. He got on his motorcycle and rode off. Eager to get to Charming, eager for retribution.

::

Tig and Quinn had rode out at the same time, both heading for their respective daughters. Quinn waved as he turned right, while Tig turned left.

Walking up the stairs, Tig passed by the Tacoma members who were guarding his daughter. He knocked hard on the door. "Fawn, it's me."

Isaiah opened the door, gun in hand. Good man. He nodded and stepped back, letting Tig in before shutting and re-locking the door. "She's in the shower."

"That's best anyway," Tig decided. "I wanted to talk to you."

"So talk."

"It isn't safe for Fawn here. She'll be safer at the clubhouse."

"She doesn't want to go," Isaiah shrugged. "She doesn't even want to be here in Charming."

"Oh fucking grow a pair. Tell her she's going. Tell her that's what you think is best."

"I don't think that it is," Isaiah responded evenly. "Not that I think this is the best option either. There isn't a guide book for this kind of thing."

"Yes there is," Tig snapped. "It's called lockdown!"

"So herd all the sheep in to one place to be slaughtered," Isaiah shook his head. "Doesn't sound like a sound plan to me."

"We've done this before."

"That's so encouraging," Fawn said, dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top while she rubbed a towel in her wet hair. "Glad to know this shit happens on a semi-regular basis with you."

"Fawn, please." God knew he'd never receive a 'father of the year' award, but just this once he wanted to be able to do right by her. Her eyes went to Isaiah, who shrugged in a way that left the decision up to her. "Fawnsy, please. You'll be safer, more guarded at the clubhouse."

Fawn bit down on her bottom lip, weighing her options. She wanted desperately to keep Isaiah out of this mess, to keep him safe. He was, after all, only in this because of her messed up family tree. One where apples dropped and ended up messed the fuck up. She ran her hands through her hair and nearly growled in frustration. "Alright," she relented. "Alright." She turned to Isaiah. "We can leave if it doesn't work." Isaiah nodded, and she nodded in return. "Okay. I'll pack up my stuff." Tig let out a sigh of relief.

::

Tink, bless her, gave Happy five minutes alone with Indiana. Technically speaking, she was still only allowed immediate family, so Tink stood guard outside. Dizziness hit him in a wave, only this time, he didn't think it was the concussion. Seeing her so weak, so small, so pale against the stark white sheets, seemed to tip the worlds axis on him. She had assistance breathing. He didn't know what the rest of the tubes and needles were for but the heart monitor insisted that despite how bad she looked she was stubbornly hanging on.

He wanted to thank her. Wanted to scold her.

He wanted to hold her. Wanted to shake some sense into her.

At war with himself, he stayed back, too afraid to touch her, afraid that that steady _beep, beep, beep,_ would become one long _beeeeeep,_ afraid that she'd be gone.

So far, her chest kept rising, just slightly, as she inhaled. It lowered when she exhaled. Despite her gaunt appearance, she looked peaceful. He heard Tink's warning double tap on the door. Unable to keep himself from doing so, he grabbed her fingers, and ran his thumb along her knuckles. "Get well soon, Hellcat." He turned before the overwhelming urge to just hold on overtook him.

He joined Tink in the hallway. She gave him a weak smile. "Come on. I'll take you out for a smoke if you buy me a pack of Skittles." He huffed out a breath, but followed her toward the doors.


	50. Because of Love

For Happy, spending two days walking around the hospital grounds grew tiresome. He wanted to be with his brothers, riding his motorcycle, doing something productive. Instead, he remained, even after the worst of his concussion symptoms faded away, and the ache in his ribs dulled. While he wanted to be part of the retribution, he stayed at the hospital. Quinn and Jax were following leads on Zobelle, and that left Tink alone and in Happy's mind, an easy target. Not to mention, Indiana, who still lied unconscious and defenceless in her hospital bed. For what she'd risked for him, he certainly wouldn't be leaving her unguarded.

He'd heard through the grapevine, namely being Chibs, that the lockdown had been loosened. Club friends and a few of the Crow Eaters had gone home, finding it relatively safe to leave. Happy didn't know if that were the wisest decision, but it would help them better protect those close to the heart. He also brought news that Cricket and Harry, former Nomads, had both arrived in Charming.

After finishing his walk around the hospital, he purchased two water bottles from the vending machine at the front entrance. Hospitals were functional, not design friendly. The plain white walls, were almost entirely unadorned, a couple of paintings from local artists hung in a small gathering by the elevator. Beautiful images to inspire hope of seeing such beauty again? He hit the up button on the elevator and waited.

One of the images captured the intense beauty of the night sky, and he yearned for those earlier days in the club, the simple pleasure of riding his bike into the night, stopping to rest in a field and staring up at the glorious spread of the sky. Now, most days were full of so much shit, one couldn't even remember those times. The painting reminded him of sitting in the dark with Indiana, who had been in high school at the time, and in the middle of the astronomy unit in here science class. _'Red Willow keeps growing. Even though Sanctuary is off the beaten path, there is still so much light. It's hard to see the stars,' she'd muttered, turning on the flashlight to check the star finder she had. She turned it back off and looked up at the sky. 'One day, I'll find some place good and dark, get a good damn look.'_ Now, he wondered if she ever did.

The elevator doors opened, and he stayed standing aside until an elderly man with a walker exited, and got in alone. He rode it to Indiana's floor and walked through the maze of hallways to the waiting room. Nudging the door open with his foot, he noticed that the couple with the kid from the accident were openly sobbing. He gave them a wide berth, joined Tink, and passed her one of the bottles.

"Thanks," she said, softly. Her eyes went to the couple and turned back to Happy. "Whatever news they just got, it wasn't good."

He shrugged. Nothing he could do about it. He had many more pressing concerns than some kid he'd never known.

The doors opened, Quinn stepping in looking pissed off, and Happy guessed that he and Jax had hit yet another dead end. Tink rushed to him, and his big arms enfolded her. "Anything new?" he asked.

Tink shook her head and pulled back. "She's stable."

"Can we see her?"

"I'll talk to the doctor," Tink replied, she looked over her shoulder at Happy, and returned her cool gaze to her husband. "Play nice while I'm gone, okay?"

Quinn just turned her by the shoulders and gave her a pat on the ass to get her going. She shot him a dirty look but headed out to find one of the doctors. Quinn sat down by Happy. "Zobelle is a fucking cockroach." Happy remained quiet, he didn't really think that required a response. "Dax and Juice dug up a couple of leads, but only brought us to a few of his men…" he trailed off when Tink re-entered. "Well?"

"No more than two, no longer than ten minutes," Tink replied. Quinn nodded and stood, he grabbed Tink on the way out.

Happy huffed out a breath and sunk a little in his seat. Indiana hospitalized, Quinn pissed with him, and his own injuries on top of it all. Fucking great.

::

It started with coffee, and escalated from there. Maureen Ashby and Gemma Teller-Morrow were at war in the kitchen. Really, most of the SAMCRO boys were surprised that something like this hadn't happened earlier. Juice and Dax had come out of Church, where they'd been quietly working to investigate the screaming.

Dax had a lit cigarette dangling from his lips while he listened to the creative name calling in that distinct Irish accent. "We going to have a cat fight, Bobby?"

"It's been brewing a while," Bobby replied. He looked over at his charge, Lowen, who was hunched over files, seemingly oblivious to the chaos.

"Let the bitches fight," Harry said solemnly. "It's the only way to get it out of their systems."

The words became quieter, which only set the men further on edge. The children were staring at the kitchen, bewildered, and a little frightened. Lyla, upon noticing this, stood. "For the love of God," she muttered and strode nervously into the fray. "Please stop. You're scaring the children."

"Stay out of this," Maureen replied.

"She can say anything she damn well pleases," Gemma said, pointing a finger at Maureen, "You're the outsider, not her!"

"This needs to end," Lyla insisted, "There is no need for any of this!"

"Sometimes, people need to learn their place," Gemma's hands curled into fists, her eyes narrowing.

Fiona stepped into the small kitchen, and with four people it felt a little crowded. What else could she do? Leave Maureen outnumbered? Not a chance. "That's enough, Gemma. We all have to live here, let's just grin and bear it, yeah?"

"Yeah," Trinity said from the doorway, Kerrianne peering in over her shoulder. "For fuck sakes, we'll send someone out to get more god damn coffee that isn't decaf!"

Gemma's lip curled at the sight of her husband's bastard child. She took one step toward the young woman, only to have Maureen push her back. "You stay the fuck away from my daughter." From there, things only got worse.

The fight spilled out into the bar, fists flying, hair being pulled, screamed threats and pained shrieks. A couple of leftover Crow Eaters saw this as a chance to better themselves to Gemma, and they got into the mess.

"This needs to stop," Juice said when he noticed Kerrianne mouthing off with one of the Crow Eaters. Hadn't he promised Chibs he'd keep an eye on his girls? He didn't wait for confirmation, or denial from the other club members. He just caught the wrist of the Crow Eater before she struck Kerrianne. He leaned in dangerously close. "Go sit the fuck down. You get back into this, I'll kick your ass out." The young woman nodded and hurried off.

Kerrianne eyed Juice and huffed out an agitated breath. "I can take care of myself!"

"Yeah, I know," he replied, "But you shouldn't have to." He watched as Fiona swung and hit Gemma in the stomach. Dax pulled stepped between them, only to end up getting hit in the jaw by Gemma, and if the sudden bleeding was any indication, she hadn't taken off her rings pre-fight.

"Enough!" Dax shouted. Tig pulled back Gemma, while Bobby separated Maureen and Lyla. "Fucking hell!"

"Come on, Gem," Tig pulled her. "Let's go cool off."

Maureen and Lyla, who'd had no previous animosity, glared at one another. "Fucking whore," Maureen muttered.

Lyla lunged at Maureen, raking nails down her face before Bobby stepped between them again. "Cut it out!"

"Well," Fawn pulled her eyes away from the brewing situation, and managed a tight smile for Isaiah. "Another day in paradise."

::

Quinn and Tink sat in chairs on opposite sides of the bed. Yesterday, the doctors had determined that her lung had inflated back to normal, and they removed the chest tube. Since then she had been breathing on her own, although, they had kept her heavily medicated through the day and only started to lessen it through the night.

"I thought she would have woken by now," Quinn admitted. He held his daughter's hand in both of his own, careful of the IV in her wrist.

"Everyone is different," Tink assured him. "Her body has gone through a lot. They kept her on some pretty strong medications to keep infection and pain away. They also probably kept her asleep. She needs time to heal."

Indiana's eyes open, and Quinn jumped out of his seat. "Indie!"

She blinked a few times, and looked around the room. The beeps of her heart monitor increased in frequency until they became alarmingly quick.

"Calm down, Sweetheart," Tink said, her voice soothing. "It's okay. You're okay."

"No, no," she looked around the room, her eyes wild and fearful.

"Indiana?" Quinn put a heavy hand on her shoulder when she tried to sit up.

"No!" the word came out a little louder, hoarse from its lack of use. "No, no!" She pulled her arm and saw the IV in her wrist. Before anyone could stop her, she yanked it out. "Hap!"

Tink's finger hovered over the call button. She really didn't want to bring the doctors in who would surely sedate her, but she didn't want her daughter injuring herself further. "He's fine," she quickly insisted, desperate for her to understand. "He's just outside."

Indiana paused for only a moment, her eyes locking with Tink's and welled up with tears. "You're lying! I heard it! I heard the shot. He's dead. I got him killed! Oh, God. He's dead."

"No, no, no Sweetie," Tink spoke quickly, both hands on Indiana's shoulder's trying to keep her from hurting herself. "Rane, get Happy."

Quinn didn't particularly want to, but his daughter's long, pained keening made the decision for him. He rushed out of the room.

::

"So," Trinity said, rubbing her jaw. "That was fun."

"Well, at least neither of us will be able to say Charming is boring," Kerrianne replied, having come out of the fray completely unscathed. "Like home sweet home."

Trinity turned away. The thought of her home country still hurt. It burned worse since finding out about Scrum through the grapevine. She'd gone to her brother, and asked him to keep her informed. He promised that he would, and she honestly believed him. Now, she worried every time he approached her, worried bad news would follow. Thus far, all he'd been able to tell her was that he was still, quite miraculously, alive. However, he was still laid up in the ICU and doctors were still telling the SAMBEL members that he was 'touch and go.'

"Sorry," Kerrianne said softly. "I know how hard it is, but I guess I had a bit more to gain coming over the water than you did."

"Aunt Tin-Tinny!" Abel shrieked as he ran over and climbed up onto her lap. "Kenny has a water gun! He's going to get me!"

"Then what are you doing on my lap, Lad?" Trinity protested even as a smile cracked through her foul mood. "He'll get me too!"

He latched on like a little spider monkey and looked at her earnestly, "Then he'll get us both!"

"Don't you have a water gun?" Kerrianne asked him.

He nodded and held up the little pistol. "It's all out!"

"Here, quick, I'll fill it up!" Kerrianne held out her hand.

Abel handed over his weapon. "Hurry!"

Trinity held her nephew when she saw the other boy come into the room and look around. "Uh oh, here comes Kenny!"

"Oh no!" Abel replied, even though he looked thrilled.

"Freeze!" Ellie came out of hiding, squirting her brother with a much bigger water gun than the two younger boys had.

"Ah! ELLIE!" Kenny laughed then, shooting back as he went for cover.

Kerrianne finished filling the pistol at the sink behind the bar and rushed back. "I was caught a bit in the crossfire!" she said dramatically when she returned, showing off the wet spot on her shirt. "I'm going down fast," she fell into her chair and held out the gun. "Avenge me, Abel."

"'Kay," he grabbed the gun and ran off.

"Wow. 'Kay. I mean nothing to him," Kerrianne quipped with a little grin.

Trinity laughed. While living in Ireland, she never thought about coming to America. On the flight over, all she could focus on was what she was leaving behind. Now, she could see just how much she had gained.

::

Brooklyn opened the door, answering the knocks. Dax stood in the doorway, he held up a bag. "Lunch?"

"Yeah, thanks," Brooklyn stepped back and he came in. Over the past few days she'd kept to herself and stayed in the bedroom with RJ. In the afternoons, she'd take RJ out to the swing set, but hated the looks she got, the questions she'd been expected to answer. She'd left this life, and people in it didn't like outsiders.

"Dax!" RJ held up the toy car the man had brought him. "Vroom!"

He smiled over at the boy. "Sorry, bud, can't stay."

"Still trying to find that Zobelle guy?" Brooklyn asked, peeking into the bag to discover subs, a couple of cookies, a can of pop and a little carton of chocolate milk.

"Yeah. He's a slippery bas…bad guy."

Brooklyn couldn't count all the times she'd sworn in front of RJ, but she hadn't caught Dax doing it once yet. She bit her bottom lip, trying to keep the smile off her face. "Any leads?"

"Na. Nothing promising," Dax replied, obviously irritated. "Jax and Quinn did have a run in with a couple of his guys."

She didn't ask if they were okay, Dax would have lead with that if they weren't. "Dead ends?"

"One is, literally. The other," Dax shrugged, "Well, that's up to him. We're holding him at a warehouse. A couple of guys are down there now. They tried to get the guy to talk, but he's a loyal fu… he's just loyal, you know?"

She smirked. "Yeah, so now what?"

"Quinn went to get Hap." Dax shrugged, "If anyone can get this guy to talk, it would be him."

Brooklyn nodded. She remembered the intensity of Happy Lowman, the loyalty to the club, and the cold control of all situations. And she'd heard things. They didn't call him _Killer_ for nothing. He'd fucking earned it. "He still at the hospital?"

"Yeah, I heard he's healing up fine though. He's just kind of watching Tink."

"I doubt it's Tink he's staying for," Brooklyn muttered. She remembered the days at Sanctuary after Happy had transferred. Indiana went from angry to sad in three seconds flat. Brooklyn had even called her little sister on it, only for Indiana to tell her to _'stay the fuck out of my business!'_ And she had, but Brooklyn still strongly felt that something had gone on between Happy and Indiana before he left town. "How is Indie?"

"Stable." Dax ran his hand through his hair. It had been left down today, and Brooklyn almost wished it were in its customary ponytail, if only so she could give it her usual teasing pull. Down, she just kind of wanted to run her hands through it. Which was a bad idea, because that usually lead into them kissing, which led to them making out, which typically led to them losing clothes, and fucking like a couple of horny teenagers. She didn't want to be tangled up. Not right now. Yet, her throat went dry and she focused on going through the bag and cracking open the can of pop. "Maybe when she's up and around I can take you down to St Thomas's, let you two visit for a while."

Leaving the safety of the clubhouse tied her stomach in knots. She took a cool sip of the drink and put it down on the desk. "I couldn't take RJ with me. And who would watch him?"

He pointed over his shoulder at the door. "There is a whole room full of people out there."

"Strangers? No way."

"I'm sure Em would do it. She's been asking about you, but she senses that you want your distance, so you might want to say hi. You don't have to stay in this room all the time. There are a couple of kids out there too. RJ might like the company."

She hugged herself. "Those kids are older."

"Thomas is younger. You could sit with Tara," he shrugged. "I'm just giving you a couple of options. I know you don't like being cooped up or tied down."

She looked over at him. Without her heels, she still stood a bit taller. "Things are different now," she whispered.

He remained quiet for a moment, he nodded. "Eat your lunch. I'll be back later."

She watched him leave and then sat down heavily on the chair. Cooped up and tied down, wasn't that what marriage had done to her? Cooped her up in that little house, in suburbia. Tied her down to a specific local, to people she didn't even really like, to a husband she'd been content with but not in love with. And Dax knew this about her, of course he did. Weren't those her parting words to him when he'd come to try and talk her into staying after she'd shot off at her father? _'I don't want to be cooped up! I don't want to be tied down to anyone or anything! Damn it, Dax! I don't love you. I'm not staying in this fucking town. I'm not staying with fucking Mark, who I also don't give a fuck about. I was just using both of you to my own ends and now I'm getting the fuck out so let go of me!'_ Because, damn it, she was her mother's daughter, and when her mother died, apparently she moved up to Queen Bitch.

Every word spoken that day had been designed to cut like a knife, forever severing ties. But it hadn't worked, had it? Not when his last words still rang in her mind. _'When you're done your little bitch fit, come home._ ' And he'd kissed her, that kind of kiss that made her toes curl and turned her brain to mush. Then he'd ended it suddenly and he left her on the brink of indecision. She'd almost gone back to Sanctuary, but her taxi had arrived and the lure of a fresh start was too strong, especially when going back to Sanctuary would take work, apologies, and hell, she'd had reasons enough to leave in the first place.

She had gotten what she'd wanted at first, a no strings attached, fun life. Which turned into matrimony when she'd conceived RJ, because, hell, the path of least resistance. Who wanted to go through child custody? Besides, Brian had a nice house, a good paycheck. She could be happy.

But hadn't been.

Now, years later, she knew what would make her happy. She stared at that closed door, and wondered, is it too late?

::

Happy could hear the hoarse screaming down the hall as he ran directly to the room it emanated from, Quinn's boot's hitting the floor as he ran behind him. There were two doctors in the room, Tink trying to convince them to give Indiana some space, while Indiana fought Tink, crying his name.

He shoved one of the doctors out of the way, and Indiana froze when she saw him. Her big blue eyes locked on to him and she let out a wail. She sucked in a breath and her lower lip quivered. "Hap?"

Tink eyed the doctors. "Let her be." The one took a look at Indiana's vitals, the heart rate which had rapidly approached normal levels, and then nodded, his colleague following him out.

Indiana forced her way to a sitting position and Happy sat on the side of her bed. "Lay down," he ordered, "Rest."

"No. This. You." She stared at him, perplexed. Slowly, she raised her hand and with one finger, she poked his shoulder, assuring herself he wasn't some drug induced hallucination. "I heard the shot," she cried, tears streaming down her beautiful face. "I heard the shot. I t-thought you were k-killed." Her hands were cold, but quick as the pulled his shirt up, hands and eyes assessing his skin. Her fingers trembled as they ran over his tattooed skin. Quinn cleared his throat loudly, but Indiana either didn't hear, or ignored him completely. She completed her inspection and soothed his shirt back down. "I t-thought you were dead. You weren't shot?"

"No," Happy replied.

She grabbed his face with both hands, ran her thumbs over his cheek bones, her eyes still looking for any sign of injury or deception. "You're okay," her breath left in a rush and an astounded smile curled her lips. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck with all her might, which at the time, didn't amount to much. She sniffled, and tears continued to stream down her face. She pulled back after a few seconds and grabbed his face again to ensure he couldn't turn away from her.

She took a couple of deep breaths, and he could see the toll that it took on her. "Indie," he said as softly as possible. "Lay down. You need to rest."

She just continued to stare with her watery eyes. "Irving. I shot him."

His jaw tightened. "Indie, just rest."

"Irving," she said his name like a foul curse. "I shot him. He's dead, right?"

"She's not on anything stronger than a typical pain killer anymore, Hap," Tink told him, her voice a barely there whisper. "She remembers whether you confirm for her or not."

He wanted to protect Indiana from the reality of what she'd done. While he killed, and even enjoyed it, he knew even some of his brothers had difficulties stomaching kills. He didn't want this sweet girl to remember the violence in that room, the lives she'd ended.

"I shot him," Indiana persisted. "Did I kill him?"

"Baby, just lay down," Quinn insisted, walking closer. "Get some sleep."

Indiana turned briefly to her father, her eyes pleading. "I need this."

When her eyes returned to gaze into Happy's, he knew he couldn't avoid the question. "Yes."

Indiana remained impassive. "The second man?"

Happy nodded.

"I couldn't move fast enough for the third," she whispered, running her hands over his face again. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head, unable to believe she was apologizing to him. "You saved me, Hellcat." He ran his hands through her hair, unable to believe she sat there before him. He pulled her in close, needing to feel her again and she rested against him, her soft breath against his neck. "You shouldn't have risked it," he growled in her ear, even as he held her gently, fearful of hurting her. Her body felt so damn good against his, but the oddly sterile scent of her threw him. He wanted her back, whole and healthy. "Why the hell did you come in there?"

"You know why," she muttered back. And he did. Those words she'd said at Sanctuary nearly a decade earlier, those same words she'd said right before she'd blown Travis Irving away. _Love_. A second later, she went slack in Happy's hold, having fallen back to sleep against him. He couldn't believe that she still harbored feelings for him. Hell, he'd never wanted to admit she had feelings for him in the first place. Nothing he'd done had ever really hurt the connection between them. He'd wanted to push her away, and for seven years he had, and now they were back doing the same dance.

Carefully he laid her back down, and soothed a hand over her hair. His little Hellcat came to him, did something so exquisitely stupid all for the chance that he might survive. Wonderful, crazy bitch.

"Hap," Quinn's voice tight and full of fury called, "We have business."

Happy turned to him, and raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"He can't ride," Tink insisted.

"Relax," Quinn said. "Van. Now Hap."

Happy took one more look at Indiana's sleeping form before he rose. He had no idea what Quinn wanted him for. Good chance to beat the hell out of him for getting too close to his daughter. In any case, Happy wouldn't walk away from a potential fight, and he sure as hell wouldn't mouth off to Quinn who'd been his President for years. "Alright, let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this one pleased the Happy/Indie fans ;)


	51. Human

Rane Quinn tried to keep his focus on Zobelle, the problem he could do something about. Zobelle's quest for revenge had caught his two daughters up in the middle. One would grieve her husband, the father of her child. The other would heal from a bullet wound. His entire world could have come down, how easy it would have been for things to be worse, Brooklyn, RJ, and Indiana could all easily have been dead by now. Their tenacious spirits bolstered by pure luck were the only reasons they were alive. He wanted Zobelle to suffer, but most of all, he wanted the son of a bitch dead.

As he navigated the van through Charming, he took a glance over at the stoic Happy. The man had remained silent since the hospital, which didn't surprise him. Like gasoline being splashed upon a fire, Quinn's vividly recalled the pictures of Indiana looking very much at home in Happy's arms. How could any father ignore such a thing? His long-time friend making a play on his daughter, one who'd just lost her Old Man, left emotionally vulnerable. _Motherfucker_.

With a white-knuckle grip, Quinn turned onto a dirt road, and slowed occasionally for potholes. The more densely the trees stood, the more he wanted to drag his brother out into those woods, and put the fear of God into him. Alas, Rane Quinn knew damn well that Happy was their best shot at getting information out of Zobelle's man, and so he kept his eyes on the warehouse.

Jax and Chibs were both sitting on their motorcycles out front. Quinn parked nearby and got out of the vehicle. Happy stepped out the other side, and noticed both Jax and Chibs checking him out. "How are you feeling, brother?" Jax asked.

"Fine," Happy bit back, pulling a cigarette from his pack. "Don't fucking mother me."

"Got it," Jax smirked, but quickly sobered. "You okay to do this?"

Happy just levelled the President with a dark look.

"Yeah, okay, got it. Not mothering," Jax put his hands up in surrender. "The guy is in the back. Have at it."

Happy lit up his cigarette, and pocketed the cheap Bic lighter. He looked at the doors, and tried to contain his rage. Such dark emotion wouldn't get him the information, it would just get their only lead killed. While the vendetta had been personal to Travis Irving, he had been under the orders of the puppet-master Ethan Zobelle. At the core, Zobelle was the reason Indiana looked so frail against those hospital sheets. In the back of his mind, he still heard her trying desperately to breathe despite the bullet that had ruined her right lung. With that in mind, he blew out a puff of smoke, and walked toward the doors.

::

When Indiana awoke again, she heard Tink arguing with a man. She opened her eyes and took a look around. Sure enough, Tink stood with her hands on her hips, staring up at a dark skinned man in a Sheriff's uniform. "She was shot! You need to let her rest."

"Well, she's awake now." The man offered her a friendly smile. "Hello, Miss Quinn, I'm Sheriff Eli Roosevelt. How are you feeling?"

Indiana swallowed hard, her mouth feeling chalky. "Water?"

Tink hurried over, and offered her daughter a plastic cup full of the liquid. Her blue eyes narrowed threateningly at Roosevelt. "You need to leave."

"It's okay," Indiana insisted. It would only be a matter of time before she had to make a statement, and it would be better if she gave them her 'version' of things rather than the police playing a guessing game. Especially when the Sons were involved. Guessing games became more of 'blame the easy target.'

"I'm sorry, I know you're in pain, but I need to ask you what happened in that house," he said kindly. "No one seems to be able to give a very accurate statement."

Indiana took a deep breath, and ran her thumb over the lip of the cup. "Well, you see, when I started to work at Diosa, I was introduced to Travis Irving. We're both accountants," she paused a moment to take another sip of water. She needed to make it a personal problem, one unrelated to the club, and she had confidence that she could spin a credible lie for this. "We didn't really see much of each other, but the few times that we did," she paused, took a few deep breaths and allowed her hand to tremble.

Tink put her hands over Indiana's and gently took the water away. "Its okay, Indie."

"Take your time," Roosevelt said kindly.

"He… he would stand very close to me, and ask me personal questions. _Very_ personal questions. I didn't do anything to encourage him, in fact, I asked him to leave me alone."

"Did you tell your boss?" Roosevelt asked.

"No, I didn't want to bother him with it. Travis made me uncomfortable, but I didn't think he was dangerous," she lied. "For a few days he didn't speak to me, I thought I made my point."

Roosevelt made quick notes, and then returned his attention to Indiana. "Then what happened?"

"He confronted me." At this point, she knew she couldn't keep Happy out of it, and only hoped he had stuck to his 'never talk to police' stance, so his version wouldn't contradict hers. "Travis had seen me talking with Happy."

"Lowman? Happy Lowman," Roosevelt asked for confirmation.

She almost smiled, _just how many guys do you know named Happy?_ "Yes. I've known him a long time. We were just talking, but Travis got it into his head that I was with him." She shook her head, "Travis became irrationally jealous. I didn't understand. Like I said, Travis and I only spoke a few times, we never dated or anything like that, but he seemed to have gotten it in his head that we were together." She took a moment, and placed her hand over where she'd been shot, breathing tugged where the new skin healed over. The ache remained constant. "Travis called me days later, on Happy's phone. He'd run him off the road! The man needed help, he was obviously mentally unstable. He said if I didn't come that he'd kill Happy." Indiana took a careful breath and shifted slightly, trying to find a position more comfortable. "So I went. I thought I could talk him down."

He eyed her suspiciously. "You brought a gun with you."

"It's registered, I have a permit," Indiana replied, her blue eyes narrowing at him. "I didn't break any laws. Are you victim-blaming?"

"No, Miss. I just need the facts."

"And I'm giving them to you."

He nodded. "So what happened next?"

"Travis had brought a few friends with him. They both had guns. Travis wanted me to leave with him. I refused. He yelled at me. The other men had their guns pointed at Happy." She took a deep breath. "Eventually, Travis grabbed my arm, I pulled away but then he started pushing me toward the door. I pushed him back and pulled out my gun." She paused and bit her lower lip. "He wouldn't listen."

"But Mr Irving didn't have a weapon," Roosevelt said, sitting back and tapping his pen against his notebook.

Indiana hated that little detail. Travis had been so sure that his guards would ensure his safety that he didn't have a weapon, and thus self-defence got a little harder to sell. "No. He didn't. But when I drew my gun, his men drew on me. I was so scared that they were going to kill me. I shot the first one and then Travis attacked me, we wrestled a bit, and I managed to push him back… I just acted on instinct." She bit down hard on her bottom lip and a tear fell from her eye. "He couldn't be reasoned with."

"The other man?"

"Shot me," Indiana replied wiping the tear away. "I turned to check on Happy, but," she shook her head, "I don't remember. I heard the gun go off a few more times but," she shrugged, and then regretted the movement. She winced and breathed through the pain. "Everything gets fuzzy after that."

"I asked around and looked into Travis Irving. Former employees and family members are shocked by his death. A few years ago, he donated a large chunk of money to a children's hospital." Roosevelt tapped the notebook. "By all accounts he sounds like a smart, upstanding citizen."

Indiana bit her tongue hard as rage welled up inside, but ended up unable to keep quiet. "Yeah, a good man on paper. You know what I look like on paper? Honours student. Dean's list at the University of South Dakota. Sons Of Anarchy Associate. Bartender. That job is held because every accounting firm looks at me the same way you do," she seethed. "The only thing you see is 'SOA associate.' You wrote me off before you even walked in here. You didn't come here for my side, and you never saw me as the victim of a crime. You came in here hoping for some way to blame this on the Sons. Well, fuck you!"

"Indie," Tink said in a harsh whisper. "Enough."

"No!" Indiana snapped. "No. It's not okay. It's not okay!" She turned back to Roosevelt who looked shocked by her tirade. "When I was a little girl, teachers would tell the class that if we ever needed help we could go to the police, but my dad, he told me to come to him, because he knew damn well that police wouldn't do fuck all for the daughter of a son because for some fucking reason, you think that because of who supplied half of my goddamn genetic code that I'm not worth helping!"

"I never said-"

"You don't need to say it," she hissed. "Whose daughter I am is the only thing outsiders see. Hell, it's the only thing anyone sees." She laid back and shut her eyes. "You should go. I told you everything. Not that it matters. Your prejudice against the club blinds you."

"My wife," he said, voice full of sorrow, "And my unborn child were killed by SOA members."

"So that gives you the right to deem me a murderer when I shot in self-defence?" Indiana shook her head. "If you have any more questions about the actual incident, ask them. If not, please leave. I want to sleep."

His dark eyes studied her. "You don't seem guilty for a woman who just admitted to shooting two men."

"They forced my hand," she snapped. "It was self-defence, not pre-meditated murder. I'm not going to feel guilty for shooting someone who wouldn't have lost any sleep after blowing my fucking head off. Now are we done?"

He stood. "For now. I assume you won't be going anywhere for a while."

Her teeth grinded together and her eyes narrowed into slits. "Well, they let me walk all the way to the bathroom six steps away today, so who knows, maybe tomorrow I'll run a marathon, do a couple lines of cocaine, and join an orgy."

"I'll take that as an affirmative," he replied dryly before walking away.

"Roosevelt," she called him when he'd almost made it to the door. "I hope that you see me when you're working this investigation," she said earnestly. "Not my father. I'm a human being too."

He looked a little saddened, nodded, and then left.

::

The office at the back of the warehouse didn't have much. The windows were so dirty that Happy couldn't even see outside. Illumination came from the little lamp that sat on the wobbly desk. Office supplies still littered the top, coated in a thin layer of dust. A collection of cobwebs hung in the corner, highlighted by the dust they'd collected, a sure sign that no one had cleaned here in years. Happy preferred cleaner spaces for any reason, but at least no one would mind the blood on the floor.

The man tried to yell around the gag, but the words remained indistinguishable. While most might think that gagging your victim would be counter-productive if you want them to talk, Happy knew better. With no one to hear you scream, the odds of help are lowered. Nothing like a good dose of fear to get someone talking. And nothing scares the piss out of someone quite like impending death.

Happy didn't ask any questions when he came in, instead, he walked around the man bound to the chair. The knots were done well enough that Happy suspected Quinn had done them. The man had done alluded to doing a short stint in the Navy. Assured his victim wouldn't be getting free, he checked the gag, before blindfolding him. When Happy stepped away, the man turned, following the sound of his footsteps.

Happy took the last drag off of his cigarette and stamped the burning end out against the man's neck. The resulting cry would pale in comparison to the sounds he'd make later. He took out his gun, and set it on the desk, followed by the knife he wore on his belt, the stiletto blade he carried in his boot, and the Bic lighter. In a line, he ordered the contents of the desk: scissors, pencils, a box of push pins, paper clips, a spiral bound notebook, and in the corner of the room sat a paper trimmer. With a sadistic grin, he grabbed the box of push pins and got to work.

::

Tink stared at the door for a full minute after Roosevelt left. She had always had a calm, cool persona. It served her well during her time as a paramedic. Now, she fought to keep her level head. Talking to police always left her a little nervous, but having her daughter being questioned had her stomach in knots.

"It isn't right," Tink whispered. "Him coming in here and questioning you like that while you're recovering."

"It would have happened sooner or later," Indiana replied. "Best to get it out of the way. I didn't want to seem like I was hiding anything anyway."

"Travis Irving was unarmed, that doesn't bode well." Tink stood and wrung her hands as she paced the length of the bed. "The way that officer talked about him, all the good he's done, the donations," she shook her head. "Not good."

"What would you have had me do? Let them follow the evidence?" Indiana muttered. "They would have only seen me shooting an unarmed good man, they would have said I invited him over, into my house. They would have made me out to be the bad guy. At least by talking I have a chance of tipping the scales."

Tink sat down heavily, she wished for her husband. She grabbed Indiana's hand, and gave it a squeeze. "I'm sorry. Get some rest."

"It's okay to be worried, Mom," Indiana muttered sleepily. "I'm scared too."

Tears welled in Tink's eyes at the soft admission, but when she turned she could tell that Indiana had already fallen to sleep. She patted Indiana's hand, and stood, pulling her phone out of her pocket, she slipped out of the room. In the hallway, she dialled her husband's number, and prayed he answered.

::

Emily laid on her back on the tarmac, staring up at the clouds that drifted by. The vastness of the sky always made her feel small, and insignificant in the same way the ocean did. It helped her at times like this, when she strived for some kind of perspective. This past week Mac had died, she had walked off the job as a therapist at the clinic (a job that as of the phone call received this morning, she no longer had,) they all had been put under lockdown, Indiana had been shot, and both Herbert, and Brooklyn's husband had been murdered.

She knew it would only end in more of the same, more blood, more death. These were dark days. Very dark indeed.

It hurt to think that earlier in the month, she'd been planning a wedding. Mac would have been her husband-to-be's best man. Without her working, their financial situation had worsened. While paying the important things, like their mortgage, things like wedding payments had fallen to the side. On her voicemail she now had an angry message from the venue, who would only hold their date for three more days before their deposit would be forfeit and their date would go back on the market.

She couldn't worry Angus with it. He'd just lost his best friend, and continued to be put on protection duty, or ended up going with the guys on their wild goose chase for Zobelle. How could she plan a wedding at a time like this?

Staring up at the clouds, everything felt trivial. "This too shall pass," she muttered to herself. Still, she had to wonder, how long would it take?

::

Every once in a while, Quinn heard a horrific muffled scream coming from within the warehouse. He respected Happy for as far as brother's go, Happy was as solid as one gets. Still, even Quinn got a little queasy at times like these. Happy having free reign always ensured that someone got fucked up beyond all recognition.

The thought of his daughter with the sadist left his blood running cold. The pictures in his head continued tormenting him. Many fathers didn't agree with their daughter's choices. Hell, he hadn't agreed with her about Mac, but she'd made him see reason. He didn't mind her being with a Son, he had too much respect for the patch for that. Mac and Happy couldn't be more different. Mac had been young, idealistic, loyal, and more than that, he'd obviously adored his daughter. Happy on the other hand, considerably older, ruthless, and ice-cold. Quinn didn't understand it. And why the hell had this come about so soon after Mac's death? Some fucked up rebound?

His phone broke him from his thoughts. He quickly answered, "Yeah?"

_"_ _Hey, it's me,"_ Tink said softly.

Panic had the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He sat straight on his motorcycle. "Is everything okay?"

_"_ _Indie is fine,"_ she replied. _"But we have a problem. A Sheriff Roosevelt just came in. He definitely has reason to want to bring down the SOA. He mentioned that a couple of Sons murdered his pregnant wife."_

"Fucking hell."

_"_ _I think we both know just who those murderous fuckers were."_

"Yeah," Quinn replied angrily. Nothing worse than traitorous brothers.

_"_ _Indiana gave a pretty convincing statement, even might have made him see her in a light not clouded by the SOA. Can't be sure though. What if they think she's guilty?"_

He heard the worry in his wife's voice, and he knew she didn't scare easy. Unable to find words, he remained quiet, thinking the situation over. He had asked her to help the club, and look at what hell that had brought her. If Roosevelt used his daughter to help bring down the club, he would charge her, get bail refused (flight risk, association with an outlaw motorcycle club), they'd have her sitting in a jail waiting for trial, and who knows how long that would take, and if she would even beat the murder charge. "We have to wait and see how the chips fall," he said finally. "You said she made a good case for herself."

_"_ _If he's determined enough, what she said won't matter."_

"I know."

_"_ _What do we do?"_ she asked, her voice hinting to her desperation.

He tugged his beanie a little, trying to find an answer only to come up short. "I don't know."

::

Guns are quick, deadly, and not ideal in a torture situation. They're great for shooting feet, but if you don't want someone to bleed out, you have to be careful. Happy hadn't touched his gun, he didn't think he'd need to use it at all. The pushpins created designs on the man's chest, and arms. They didn't bleed much, and some of them had been hard to shove in, but Happy had found it a rather enjoyable way to begin.

He sliced skin with the scissors, dull and a little rusty from their years spent unused. He had found a couple of candles, which he assumed were in case of a power outage, and lit them right away. Not that he really needed the extra illumination. Instead, he poured some of the candle wax onto the cuts. The man screamed, muffled by his gag, jerked in his chair trying to get away from that which caused him pain.

Happy paused, waiting for that moment when screams become little whimpers. "I'm going to remove the gag. You're going to tell me what I want to know." Careful to keep his fingers out of biting range, Happy pulled down the gag. "Talk."

The man took gulps of air, which slowed to normal breaths. "Go fuck yourself," he snarled before he spat on Happy's kutte.

The immediate punch knocked the man, and the chair to the ground. "Motherfucker," Happy growled. He left the man on the floor, and returned to the desk. And so, the game continued.

::

Dax found Brooklyn out by the playground with little RJ. He walked over, and put an arm over her shoulder. "How are you doing?"

She leaned in. "I got to thinking today, eventually someone is going to notice that no one is coming or leaving my house. Someone may have noticed my hasty exit. Eventually Brian's body is going to be found." She looked over at him. "What do I do? I have to go to the police before RJ and I are labelled 'missing persons.'"

"No, it's been handled," Dax said, squeezing her shoulder. "You don't have to worry about that."

Alarmed, she turned to him. "What do you mean?"

"I know a guy, who knows a cop in that area. A charter closer took care of the body and evidence. You might want to decide to put your house up for sale."

She stared for a second, trying to let the information sink in. "Handled? Just like that?"

He shrugged. "I didn't see the point of upsetting you with it when everything was so fresh in your mind. I knew you'd ask eventually."

"Unbelievable," she muttered.

"What? You thought we'd let you go to the police about this?"

"Maybe they could find something if you guys hadn't destroyed the evidence," she snapped. "No one knows who this guy is!"

"We'll figure it out."

"Oh the hell you will!" She shoved him away. "That man murdered my husband! He would have happily done the same to me, and who knows what to my son! I have not, and never will rely on the Sons to get shit done. All you ever do is make things worse!"

"Brooke-"

"Don't!" She put her hands up to ward him off. "Just don't. I still remember waiting for my dad to come home. Years I waited. I walked back into his life, and all that brought was blood and violence! The control over everything in my life slipped away to fit the rules of his life, of your life."

"And this life you built for yourself," he snapped. When she took a step back, he reached out and grabbed her by the belt loop, pulling her in. "Are you in control? Are you happy? Or did you just resign yourself to the easy life?"

"Fuck you," she hissed. "Let me go."

Instead of doing what she asked, he put an arm around her waist. "Still not done your bitch fit, huh?"

"Go to hell!"

"Been there since you ran off," he said softly. "Now, when reason comes back and you realize this was all for the best, I won't even say 'I told you so.'" She glared at him, and he finally let her go. "I'll be inside if you need me."

She immediately turned away from him and sat down in the sand with her son. She hated to admit it, but the fact that everything had already been taken care of took a load off her mind. Even though she'd been fighting with Dax, she felt a guilty thrill being pressed up against him again. Her son started to walk off toward the swings, and her mind switched focus from Dax to RJ as she followed after the little boy.

::

Happy unwound the thin metal wire from the notebook, enjoying the fear radiating off his blindfolded companion. Just for kicks, he created little paper cuts between the fingers. "I want you to think about Ethan Zobelle," Happy said as he pulled the wire completely free, straightened it out, and set it aside for later.

He had been at this for hours. The man had burns and cuts everywhere. Candlewax clung to the skin. Flesh puckered at the heat, split under the blade, and punctured under the pushpins. With his knife, he cut away the blindfold. Happy gave the man a smile. "You don't need your eyes to talk."

The man's eyes went to the knife. "No."

"No knife?" Happy twisted the blade over in his hands. "I agree."

The man looked confused for a moment, as Happy returned to the desk and returned with a handful of paperclips he'd previously straightened out like the wire of the notebook. He had to use one hand to keep the eye open, and the man tried desperately to get away. Happy pressed his knee over the man's groin. The momentary stop allowed him to slide the straight wire, formerly a paperclip, into the soft tissue of the man's iris. The screaming echoed through the warehouse. The eyelids closed around the obstruction and refused to open.

"Zobelle," Happy demanded.

"FUCK YOU!"

Tired of the games, Happy grabbed the arm of the chair and started dragging him to the other side of the room where the paper trimmer sat. "How many pieces you end up in is entirely up to you." He grabbed his large knife from the desk and used it to cut the bindings of the left arm. He forced the hand into place. "You ready to lose your fingertips?"

The man breathed heavily, his vision zeroed in on his hand laying flat by the long blade of the paper trimmer.

"This office is old," Happy said, almost conversationally. "I can't be sure how sharp this thing is. Might not make it through bone on the first try. Last chance." The man remained silent. "Fine."

"Wait!" He cried out just as Happy's hand grabbed the handle. "He's staying at a hotel in Lodi."

"What hotel?"

"Queen's Hotel and Spa," the man shouted quickly.

"Are you lying?"

"No!"

Quickly, Happy slammed down the blade of the paper trimmer. Despite its years abandoned, it sliced right through flesh and bone. Despite the jerk the man had given at the last moment, three fingertips laid on the work bench.

The man screamed in horror as he looked at his shortened digits, and the bloody flesh bits left behind. "I told you! I told you."

Happy moved his victim's hand back into position. "Did you lie to me? I'll do it again."

"I'm not lying, I swear, I swear I'm not lying!"

Happy believed him. The man continued to whimper in pain, and Happy grabbed the notebook wire and a pencil.

"What are you doing?" the man whined. "I told you everything."

Happy didn't bother to answer. No reason to wasting words on a dead man. Being told everything didn't change the fact that this man had fucked with the wrong crowd. Besides, he sure as fuck wouldn't be releasing the little bastard who would only return to Zobelle. He wrapped the wire around the man's neck and twisted the ends around the pencil.

"Stop, please, stop!" The man continued to beg for his life as Happy turned the pencil, tightening the wire. The pleas became garbled as the wire of his homemade garrotte cut into his throat and the pencil became harder to turn. The one free hand went to his throat, missing fingertips trying to find purchase around the wire with no avail. The sound of his breathing for a moment resembled Indiana's desperate breaths when her lung had collapsed. Good, the fucker deserved to know what she felt. He might not have been the one to shoot her, but his loyalties were to the same side.

He gave the pencil another vicious turn and could no longer hear any breathing, instead of stopping, he tightened as far as he could and held it. Minutes ticked by before he let go. He checked for a pulse- nothing. He blew out the candle, grabbed his belongings and walked out of the warehouse with the location in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the wonderful comments and kudos :)


	52. Under Lock and Key

The men sat around the redwood table during church. They voted unanimously within those smoky walls for retaliation against Ethan Zobelle. Thanks to Happy's interrogation, they had a location.

"We need to do this smart," Jax said. His own seething heart waged war against his calculated brain. He'd lost the chance for retaliation because of that Irish prick, Cameron Hayes, who'd kidnapped his son. Ethan Zobelle wouldn't get another chance at living.

"We need to confirm he's there," Angus said, sitting back in his chair. "Not that I think he dared lie to Hap at the end, but Zobelle might be moving around."

Happy nodded. Queen's had a reputation, not just for opulent design, or the price tag that went with it, but for its discretion and security which made it a popular destination for the rich and famous.

"If he is there, he'll likely have guards," Harry said gruffly, puffs of cigar smoke escaping his lips as he spoke, he blew the rest out in a line.

Cricket nodded. "This guy has everyone else doing his dirty work. I doubt he'd leave himself without some protection."

"Sounds like his nephew took a page from his playbook," Quinn spoke, shaking his head. "That son of a bitch had two armed guards. Didn't even bother arming himself."

"Well, he fucking learned, didn't he?" Harry replied, tapping his cigar against the ashtray. "Girl shot him right in the fucking face, that's what I hear."

Quinn took a deep breath. It haunted him that his daughter had to kill. She should have been protected. He wanted to get everyone back on track. "Surveillance. We can't just storm into a hotel like that, fuck sakes, a place like that has guards at the front door to keep out unsavoury types."

"Fuck that," Angus said with a wicked grin, "I'm very savoury."

Donut stared at the ridiculous man with his eyebrows raised. "So you just going to walk in alone?"

"Sure," Angus said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. He shrugged his shoulders, "I even have a suit for the-" he cut himself off, thinking of his upcoming nuptials, and realizing why his girl had been so frosty over the past few days. He'd been so busy with work, that not a thought over their wedding had crossed his mind. Emily, true to form, would keep her mouth shut until the danger passed, and then chew him out over the fact they would have to push their wedding months.

Donut rolled his eyes. "Fuckin' Nomads."

Angus snapped out of his thoughts as his anger flared. His eyes narrowed, and he leaned toward the table. "Well at least I ain't some pussy hiding behind his patch."

Donut stood so fast, his chair shot back and hit the wall. Before he could do much, both Quinn and Tig were blocking his way. Angus, on the other side of the table had stood, but ended up blocked by Dax and Bobby. "Easy kid," Dax whispered.

"We need in there," Angus argued. "I just suggested an option." He leaned around Dax and looked Donut in the eyes. "And he insulted the Nomads of his own club. Fucking pussy."

Donut tried once more to get through the defense of Quinn and Tig, but failed. He stopped and shook his head. "After church. You and me, in the ring."

Angus threw the older man a dirty grin. "Yeah, I bet you want me in the ring, but I don't really swing that way." Donut looked ready to kill as Quinn and Tig held him back.

"Angus, stop instigating," Dax warned. The young man dropped down in his seat, but the cocky grin didn't leave his face.

"That's more than enough," Jax finally said, wearily. "Everyone sit the fuck down."

"We're fighting after this," Donut insisted, staring at Angus as he sat back down.

"I feel a little bad, about to kick the shit out of a man old enough to be my grandfather," Angus replied, not looking remorseful in the least. Donut maybe had fifteen years on Angus, but Angus just wanted to rub in his youth. Quinn shot the man he sponsored a warning look, and cut his hand across his throat. Angus immediately turned his attention back to the club President, and kept his comments to himself.

"It sounds like a simple enough plan," Bobby said, nodding toward Angus. "But it could work."

"You'll still need reservations just to get past the front door," Chibs said. "I bet a room for the night is mighty pricy."

"I'll spring for it, if I can take my girl," Angus said, with a big grin on his face. "Might as well get use out of the room while we're at it."

"Sure that's safe?" Quinn asked. He felt protective of Emily, much in the way that he did for his own flesh and blood.

"Of course," Angus insisted. "This Zobelle guy doesn't have the slightest about who I am. Even if his guards are looking for a Son, they aren't going to be looking for a couple."

"He's got a point, Pres," Bobby said, nodding his approval of the plan.

Jax looked around the table. "Alright, let's vote it boys."

::

The vote would have been unanimous had Donut not voted against Angus just to spite him. Immediately after church, they headed for the ring, the rest of the men following.

Emily followed that trail of men, wondering what the heck was going on. She spotted Angus, and wove her way through the crowd to catch his arm. "Who are you fighting?"

"Donut," he replied. While he had stopped to talk, he pulled off his rings, and handed them to her. "Hold those for me."

"Did something happen in Church?" she asked, looking worriedly toward the ring as Donut paced. The man might be older, but his muscle definition showed through his shirt.

"Yeah, I'll explain it later," he replied, kissing her temple. "I've got to go."

"Be careful."

"Always."

Emily held his rings in her fist. She sucked her lower lip between her teeth, and bit down lightly as she worried over her fiancé.

::

Kerrianne sat on the bottom of the slide at the clubhouse. She could see the fight going on in the ring, vicious exchanges of fists. Violence. More violence. The clubhouse would be a breeding ground of it. Too many lives shoved into one space, too many opinions, too many volatile personalities, fights were, in her opinion, inevitable.

She couldn't wait for the lockdown to be called off. She could start decorating her room the way she liked, and have a normal family life with both of her parents under one roof again. Sooner than later, she needed to find a job. A task that might be difficult, being here illegally and such. Her dark eyes scanned the crowd again only to find a problem solver making his way toward her.

"Nice night," Juice said.

"Not bad," Kerrianne agreed. She looked over at the ring. "When will they stop?"

"Bobby'll break it up if it gets too bad," Juice replied, pulling a package of cigarettes from his kutte. "Which is usually the way it gets."

She shook her head. "Why are they fighting to begin with?" she wondered, and then looked up at Juice, who leaned against the fence. "Or can you not tell me?"

"Angus had an idea during church, Donut didn't necessarily agree. Looks like there might be bad blood. Donut didn't sound like he's a fan of the entire Nomad charter, but he didn't start shit with Quinn, so," Juice shrugged. "Might just be that they've been under lockdown too long with nothing productive to do. Or it might be that Angus didn't back down, and shit escalated."

Kerrianne watched until Bobby called the fight. Both men went their separate ways, and neither looked happy. "That can't be good."

"Usually, everyone'll hug it out at the end. Show there isn't any hard feelings," Juice replied.

"Well, it looks like there is hard feelings then," she replied, standing and pulling her hoodie close around her body. "I have a totally unrelated question."

"Alright, shoot."

"Can you get me papers, the kind that make me look legal?"

"Yeah, your father already asked me about that."

"He did," she replied, surprised. She realized soon after, how foolish her surprise was. Of course her father would want her to look legal. "And?"

"I'm not a master at forgery, but I know someone who is. Problem is, he's kind of reclusive, and expensive. We'll have to at least wait until lockdown is over so I can make the trip out to see him, and we have to wait for Diosa and the garage to reopen so we'll have the money to pay for the works."

Kerrianne sighed. "Alright."

"Are you… are you okay?"

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, well, yeah. Roof over my head, three meals a day, decent company" she shrugged. Thinking of Jimmy O, she added, "I've been worse."

"Well, I've got a laptop and a huge library of pirated movies if you want some entertainment," he offered.

She smiled. "Watching a movie on a small screen has never sounded so awesome."

He laughed. "Cool, let's go in."

::

"So we're going to Queen's Hotel and Spa?"

He cringed at the pitch in her voice, and motioned for her to lower it with his hands. "Christ, Em, I think you busted my eardrum."

She ignored the comment as she tackle-hugged him down onto the bed. "This is so exciting, so wonderful! I've heard such rave reviews about that place, but never dared dream I'd get to go! This is going to be so great!"

"We have to lay low. While he doesn't know me, he is going to be looking out for a Son."

She looked over his tattooed arms. "Well, it looks like I'll be swimming alone."

"You're going to come in with me, you're going to leave with me, and unless we're scoping the place out, you're going to be in our room."

"But Angus," she whined, and dropped dramatically beside him. "I certainly wouldn't be noticed, and I've seen their pool. And their spa," she moaned.

"I don't like it, so you're staying in the room. With me," he said with rare sincerity. She pouted. "With me," he repeated. "Under me preferably, although I'm open to the option of you on top."

"You cad!"

"Cad?" he raised an eyebrow. "Did you just call me a cad?"

She flushed. "Sorry," her hand flicked toward the television in their room. "Gone With the Wind was on this morning."

"Gone With the Wind?"

"It's an old movie. Very romantic. I watched it when I was little, and fell absolutely in love with Rhett Butler. Up until the end, that is. I wanted a happily ever after, and have been picking up the pieces of my broken heart ever since."

"Well," he replied, kissing her softly. "Let me help you."

::

Quinn walked into the hospital room. Tink slept in the chair, while Indiana channel surfed on the little television hanging in the corner of the room. "What's on?" he asked, pulling up a chair beside her bed.

"Wheel of Fortune, Jeopardy, the news, and NCIS:LA reruns." She left on Wheel of Fortune, and studied the puzzle on screen.

"How are you feeling?"

She squinted. "No pain, no gain?"

Quinn frowned. He glanced up at the television on mute with subtitles, as a new puzzle came on screen. "I can't ignore it, Indiana, we have to talk about Hap-"

She smiled at the screen. "A good man is hard to find."

"Indiana!"

She shot her father a cheeky grin, and pointed at screen. "The answer to the phrase, it's 'a good man is hard to find.'"

He rolled his eyes. "Was 'no pain, no gain' the last one?"

"Yeah. I should go on Wheel of Fortune," she said, desperate to stall the conversation her father apparently wanted to have. "I'd be good at it."

"No doubt, but focus here. We need to talk about those photographs."

She didn't want to talk about it, because she didn't want to hurt her father. When it came to making decisions that he didn't necessarily approve of, she had to put her foot down, and put it down hard. "What about them?"

"How long hav-"

"God, Dad, do you know how ridiculous that question even is?"

"I haven't even finished asking it."

"How long have we been hooking up? We haven't been," she answered with as much sincerity as she could muster. She hoped she didn't look guilty, even as she thought of Happy in her office, pulling her over the desk, eager to take her. Thoughts of him pulling her hair, a moment caught in the photographs, an action that had yanked her from the edge of panic and into lust. "I just lost Mac, and Happy is not the kind of guy who would be into me," she found herself saying even as old memories of him being intimate with her resurfaced.

"You were pretty worried about him," Quinn said. He didn't know his daughter to be a poor liar, but sick as she was, her skin had taken on a flush during discussion.

She crossed her arms, eyes briefly looking up at the screen. "Star-crossed lovers."

Quinn saw the answer come up on screen. Annoyed, he glared at his daughter. "You're avoiding the question."

"It wasn't a question," Indiana retorted. "It was a statement. A correct one. I thought he was dead, Dad. I've known him nearly my entire life, and I thought he'd died. Doesn't that entitle me to some worry? And you know what, we already went through this when I started to seriously see Mac. My life, my decisions."

"I want you safe!"

"Well I'm not!" she shouted. "And I never will be."

Tink rubbed her tired eyes, and moved carefully to a more comfortable seating position despite the pain in her neck. "What is going on?"

"I am your daughter," Indiana said softly. "I love you, Dad, but you have to let me make what decisions I can. I'm already trapped within the little glass jar of your world, don't suffocate me in it."

Quinn deflated in the seat. His little girl had a way with words, and not matter how righteous he felt in an argument, he ultimately came out feeling pretty low. "I want to protect you from the things I can."

"You can't teach someone to ride a bike, without letting them get skinned knees," Tink said softly. "As much as you wanted her never to fall off those two wheels, she did, she had to. Love is much the same."

Indiana reached out and grabbed her father's hand. "Don't worry, Daddy, I'll always love you best."

And just like when she said it when she was a little girl, it melted his heart.

::

Tara tried to sleep. The rooms at the clubhouse were completely full. Abel shared a bed with Ellie, Piper, and Kenny. At first, it hadn't been a problem. The youngsters enjoyed the idea of a big sleepover. It wouldn't last. The children kicked for room, and fought over the blanket. She slept in another room, or tried to. Thomas had a small crib set up in the room, and he'd slept soundly for the past hour.

Lockdown left her itching to get out. First day with freedom, she'd take the boys to the park, do some grocery shopping, take a nice long again, when lockdown lifted for everyone else, and when it lifted for her would be two different things.

The men were still focused on Zobelle. Rightfully so. They had put Indiana Quinn in the hospital, run Happy off the road, murdered an unrelated party, and a former member who'd left in good standing with the club. And those were just the recent offences.

After Zobelle, they still had to worry about Toric. Tara had earlier spoken with Lowen, who laid low in the clubhouse. She hadn't gotten any new information, and looked awfully sorry about it. Tara appreciated the lawyer's worry on her behalf, and all she'd done, putting herself in danger for Tara's sake, for the sake of the club. They couldn't ask for a more loyal attorney.

All Tara really wanted, was to go home. Clean the place, cook a little, have dinner with her boys. Preferably, her husband would be around. Thinking of their kitchen, she vividly recalled the last time they were intimate. She wished Jax were with her, he could do something about this wicked need of hers.

She tried to redirect her mind while staring up at the ceiling. The outdoor lights were on and filtered through the blinds to give her just enough light to see. Tomorrow she could… cook breakfast. She would cook breakfast. Not that she particularly liked cooking, but it would be a break in the boredom. She had Thomas and Abel to entertain. Everyday under lockdown was simply a repeat of the last. The repetition bored her.

Her mind returned to more pleasurable thoughts. The way Jax had kissed her, his beard rubbing against her soft skin, his lips just slightly chapped, a little rough on her own. His facial hair scraping against her neck, her fingers found the spot where her hickey had faded away, but for days she had enjoyed the reminder of their love-making. Her hand followed the trail his mouth had, over the swell of her breast. She winced at how tender they felt, and skipped over them on her trail down her body.

The door opened, and she jolted upright. The outline in the doorway could not be mistaken for anyone other than her husband. "Jax," she breathed out his name in a sigh of relief.

"Hey, you're awake," he said softly, shutting the door, which blocked out the music.

She watched him shrug out of his kutte, and hang it off the back of a chair. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as he pulled off his shirt, which ended up discarded on the floor. She slipped out from under the blankets, and walked barefoot over to him, her lips pressing against his chest while her own hands went to the button on his jeans. "I've missed you," she whispered breathily. Releasing the button, she pulled on the zipper of his jeans, pushing the material off his hips. "I've missed you," she repeated, before she pressed kisses down his chest as she sunk to her knees.

::

Happy flipped through the classifieds looking for a motorcycle for sale. It didn't have to be fancy, it just had to run. They never had found the remains of his own motorcycle. Irving had done a damn good clean up job. Fucking bastard. He'd loved his bike, put countless hours, and thousands of dollars into that machine. Now, it was gone. That put him in a difficult position, being the SAA of a motorcycle club. Can't ride, can't vote. Can't ride without a motorcycle. Luckily, his vote hadn't been necessary during church, but he wanted his say in the future.

He took a sip of his beer, and continued his scan. So far, in the automotive section, he'd only found cars, trucks, and minivan for sale. He really couldn't afford to purchase a brand new motorcycle. Especially, not with his mother so ill. He'd shuffled around his finances yet again, but paying off credit cards with credit cards would catch up to him sooner than later.

"Hey Hap, you want another beer?" Emily asked, pointing to the bottle he had. He finished the last of it, and nodded. She turned, and grabbed a bottle from the fridge, popped the top, and passed it to him. "What are you looking for?"

"New bike," he replied.

"Ah," she nodded. "So, they never found yours, or was it too damaged?"

"Never found."

"Such a shame," Emily replied. "Any luck?"

"Not unless I want a minivan," he muttered.

She burst out laughing. "I didn't know you had a sense of humour!" He glared at her, but she continued smiling. "Who posts things in the newspaper these days?" She pulled out her smart phone. "I'll look online for you."

::

Fawn snuggled up to Isaiah. The two of them were stuck with the couch, and she was about one night away from agreeing to sleep at her dad's place. She scooted back from the edge, pressing directly up against her boyfriend. His arm around her waist tightened and she felt secure that she wouldn't fall off in the middle of the night.

"This is all so crazy," she whispered.

"It'll still be crazy in the morning," Isaiah whispered. "Get some sleep."

At nearly two in the morning, the music had finally been turned down low, and for some reason, people were still up and showing no signs of sleeping. Her father, in fact, continued a game of pool with Fiona. She had learned the names of the people here over the past few days. They were all fairly polite, to her at least, some of them were a little less friendly with Isaiah. Old prejudices, she guessed.

Fiona's dark skin had come as a surprised. She knew the Sons weren't so friendly with those of colour, but everyone showed her the utmost respect- well, other than the other women. Chibs walked over, and put his arm around his wife. Fawn smiled a little, Chibs and Fiona clearly adored one another.

"Are you kickin' his ass, Love?" Chibs asked his wife.

"Not even close, I'm afraid," Fiona replied. "It's been a while since I last played."

"Oh my god!" Fawn turned her head toward the shriek. Kerrianne, and Juice were sitting on a wide chair, just enough space for the both of them. A laptop rested on one of each of their legs, headphone wires split so they each had one. Her head had turned to Juice's shoulder. "Oh my god," she shrieked again, and then risked turning back to the screen. "He dies!"

Juice laughed. "Just watch the movie!"

"But he dies! He's the main character, he dies in a bloody hail of bullets! That can't happen!"

"It does," he replied. "Now shhh, watch the end. It'll be worth it."

"I fucking doubt it," she said, but returned her attention to the small screen.

Curiously, she turned her attention back to the pool table. Chibs had a frown, but Fiona had a wide smile. She nudged her husband. "Let it be, Filip." She turned then, and bent over. If Fawn wasn't wrong, he was definitely checking his wife out. Fawn bit her lip, she hoped for that kind of love, affection, and sexual attraction when she was their age. Fiona took her shot, the ball jumped a little, banged off the side, and missed every hole and every ball. "Shoot."

Tig walked around the table, took his shot, and sunk the eight ball. He shot Fiona a big smile. She glared up at him. "Watch your tongue, Tig. I still have the cue in hand."

"She'd use it too," Chibs warned with a wide grin.

Tig caught Fawn's eyes and he smiled at her. "Sleepy, kiddo?"

"Not really," she replied honestly, despite the fact her boyfriend slept soundly behind her.

"Come here," Tig waved her over. "We'll play doubles."

She slowly slipped out of Isaiah's grasp, and walked over to the table. "I have to warn you, I'm terrible."

"Good, it'll even out how bad I am," Fiona said, her smile made Fawn feel welcomed.

"Alright," Fawn shrugged, "Let's play."

::

Quinn looked over his daughter's medical bills. Luckily, their insurance covered a lot of it, but there were still a few costly charges that were up to him. Recovery time in the hospital wouldn't be covered.

"We could take her home," Tink said over his shoulder. "The doctors say she's well enough."

"She can hardly walk to the bathroom," Quinn argued.

"She'll get better. And I imagine she'd do better in a familiar setting."

"Well right now, everyone is under lockdown at the Charming clubhouse. The place is a madhouse," he replied, worriedly. "There aren't enough beds as it is."

"What about Diosa?" she asked. "Nero came in to see her yesterday, she slept right through the visit, but he told me if we needed anything, he'd help anyway he could."

"They are still open for business," he muttered. "Now that Irving is dead, the money is staying in the bank, mostly going right back out for bills."

"She needs a place to recuperate. I can stay with her," she said. "Sons are still on rotation for protection there, as well as the Byz-Lats. She'll be safe. If any medical complications come up, I'll know, and I'll get her back to the hospital."

He nodded. "I'll call Nero in the morning."

"Good. She'll be happy to get out of here at least," she replied. "She's getting restless, and cranky"

He grinned. "Glad you've been sitting with her instead of me then."

She shook her head, and kissed his cheek. "I know you don't mean that."

He looked at his baby girl, sleeping in the hospital bed. She still looked so frail. "I just want her to get better, Tink."

"I know, and she will. Give her time to heal, Rane."


	53. Homecoming

Angus threw the last bag into the back of Emily's VW Tiguan. A part of him wished he hadn't volunteered for this. Even if he didn't think that Zobelle's men would peg him as a son, having his Old Lady around if they did was worst case scenario. She had excitedly packed their bags, rambled on about spa treatments for couples, and made a wonderful show of packing her copy of the Kama Sutra. And really, would he say no to that?

He walked back into the smoky clubhouse, and located Emily writing something down on a piece of paper at the bar. He stepped behind the bar, and looked over her shoulder. She looked at her smart phone and then checked the address she'd just written down. "What's that?" he asked.

"It's for Happy. This guy," she tapped the paper, "Is selling a motorcycle. Hap needs one." Angus grinned widely, and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What?"

"Just thinking about what a great Old Lady I have," he replied, his hand curving possessively over her hip as he nuzzled her neck.

"Are we loaded up and ready to go?"

"Yeah, we'll head out in ten," he kissed her cheek. "I just have to let Jax know we're heading out."

He stepped out from behind the bar, and looked around the room. Jax sat at one of the tables beside Tara, and he had Thomas in his arms. Angus gave Tara a smile and nod in greeting, which she returned. "Em and I are heading out," he told Jax.

Thomas babbled, and clapped his hands. Jax stood with the boy in his arms, and clasped a hand over Angus's shoulder. "Don't do anything stupid, brother."

"In and out, totally incognito," Angus promised.

::

"Hap!" Emily called out, jogging up behind him as he made his way across the parking lot with long strides. "Jesus, you walk fast." He stopped and waited for her to catch up. "Here," she passed him the piece of paper with the address she'd copied. "Phone number is on there if you want to call the guy for more information. I wrote down the specs that were on the website, but you'll want to see it in person."

He glanced at the information, folded the paper, and tucked it into the pocket in his kutte. "Thanks."

She smiled, "You're welcome."

He turned back toward the truck only to get stuck in his head. When Emily and Indiana had been growing up, Emily had definitely been the troublemaker between the two. Emily also had a strong sense of duty toward the club, one that Happy worried would get her in trouble as it had Indiana. Zobelle had no problem hurting women, and when he thought about what happened to Gemma under Zobelle's orders, he felt ill. Unable to ignore the thought, he turn back to her. "Are you heading out?"

"Yeah," she replied, a little surprised that Happy continued conversation with her. He'd never been any more unfriendly toward her than he was anyone else, but he didn't ever go out of his way to converse with her. "Angus and I'll be back in a couple of days."

"You stay close to Angus, and you fucking listen to him," he said, his voice low and dead serious. "Zobelle and his crew don't give a shit about collateral."

She swallowed hard at his warning. "I know. My best friend almost died because of this son of a bitch," she seethed.

He nodded. "And if that makes you want to do something reckless… _don't_."

His warning sounded awfully close to genuine concern. She chewed on the inside of her cheek before she nodded. "I won't."

He took her word for it. "Good. I have to get to Diosa."

"Isn't Indiana being taken there?" she asked.

"Yeah, Quinn, Cricket, and Harry left a little while ago. They'll ensure she gets there safely.'

"So, are you going for security," she asked, a mischievous smile curving her lips, "Or for Indiana?"

"Watch it," he growled.

She shrugged, and turned on her heel. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind some company," she hinted as she walked away.

Happy shook his head, trying to ignore her teasing tone, and walked the rest of the way to the truck.

::

Indiana hated the wheelchair. _Hated it._ She loved running, and would kill to be able to take off for a couple of miles. Unfortunately, her lung didn't like that idea. _At all._

Tink shuffled along beside her, the poor woman looked absolutely exhausted. A chair is not conductive to a good night's sleep. Indiana tipped her head back, and looked up at her father who pushed the wheelchair. "Dad, when I get to Diosa, you better take Mom away for a couple of hours. At least eight."

Quinn had noticed the look of his lovely wife. "I will."

"Rane, you're going out with the guys after we get her settled," Tink interrupted, her eyebrows raised in alarm. "If not me, then who will look after her?"

"I'm twenty-seven, I don't need to be 'looked after.'" Indiana huffed out an annoyed breath. "Doctors have cleared me. My lung is fine, it just hurts. I'm not going to be running off, even if I wanted to. I'm going to be in a building with a bunch of people, including security staff." She took Tink's hand, and shot her a smile. "Stop worrying."

"Not while I still draw breath, my daughter," Tink insisted. Indiana sighed. Tink squeezed her hand. "If you have children, you will understand."

Indiana took a deep breath, and folded her hands in her lap as they exited through the front. Cricket and Harry stood under the 'do not smoke' signs, both of them smoking. "Sweet baby Jesus," Indiana snapped. "If you imbeciles can't read, the sign even has pictures!"

Cricket laughed. "We're anarchists, kid."

"Such fucking rebels," Indiana replied sarcastically.

"I'll bring the car," Quinn said, pressing down the brakes on the wheelchair.

Harry pulled the cigar from between his lips, and blew out a line of smoke. His lightless grey-blue eyes assessed the youngest of his godchildren. "You look like shit."

Indiana held up a middle finger. "So do you, but I got shot, and just spent the better part of a week in a hospital. What's your excuse?"

"Indie," Tink hissed the name in warning.

Harry half-smiled around his cigar. He blew another line of smoke. "Good to see you still got your smart mouth, Girl."

Indiana shifted in her seat, trying to find a position more comfortable. The dose of her painkillers had been cut back in the past few days, and while healing, it still hurt. "So you guys are my royal escort?" she asked, trying to keep her mind off the pain.

"We'll get you to Diosa, safe and sound," Cricket promised, dropping his cigarette, and stubbing it out under his boot.

"Have you guys been to Diosa yet?" she asked.

"Na, haven't had time," Cricket replied. "I hear it's something though."

Thinking about Diosa left Indiana with mixed feelings. Nero and Lyla had made her feel welcome. Her office had become a refuge of work, and it mingled with the memory of Happy's hands on her body. It also came with the horrible memory of phone call she'd received from Travis Irving.

More than anything, Indiana relished the fact that she wouldn't be spending another night in the hospital. Instead, she'd have a plush bed at Diosa. The room would likely be lightly perfumed, unlike the sterile hospital scent she'd grown to hate. The best part? Sons were still running protection. Of course, that also fell under the worst part, because she knew she shouldn't torture herself with such thoughts.

Happy hadn't come to see her since she'd woken up, freaked out, and fell asleep in his arms. She knew he'd been busy with the club, and couldn't fault him for that. She even figured her father had made his disapproval known. And she knew that Happy respected Quinn's opinion more than most.

Now, she had her hopes set that she would see him at Diosa. Odds were that after his concussion, and the loss of his motorcycle, that he wouldn't be riding on the front lines after Zobelle. Happy would still want to be working, she knew him well enough to know that. Eventually, they would cross paths again. However, she had no idea what would happen when they did. It filled her with both anticipation and apprehension. In any case, it served as a nice distraction to the pain in her chest.

Tink's Lincoln Navigator pulled up to the curb. While Tink opened the door, Cricket and Harry helped Indiana to her feet. She hissed out a breath and got used to carrying her full weight. "I got it," she insisted out of pride.

Despite the fact that Tink shook her head, Indiana stepped away from the men who had helped her to her feet, and she took the three steps to the SUV. She stared at the seat, and hated how difficult everyday tasks had become.

"You alright?" Harry asked, his hand under her elbow, ready to help.

She smiled. Despite his gruff appearance and demeanor, and while he'd blatantly show affection, there were always little things he did that showed he cared. "I'm good," she replied, and found that she meant it. The pain in her chest sucked, but it was manageable. She took a breath, and climbed into the SUV.

::

Tara pushed Abel on the swing set. The little boy giggled and begged to be pushed higher. Beside him, little RJ swung in the baby swing. Tara watched the little boy look around, his little fingers held a tentative grip on the chains. "Your son is so calm."

"Yeah, he is," Brooklyn smiled. Thank God for that. She couldn't imagine having to raise a little hellion on her own. The death of her husband hurt, but not nearly as much as she imagined it would. At first, she blamed numbness, blamed the sudden change of situation that rushed her from her suburban home to a MC clubhouse. The shock had worn off though, and still, while it saddened her, it didn't devastate her.

She looked over at the picnic table where Tara's husband sat with Trinity who held her young nephew in her arms. Family dynamics within the club were rarely simple. Brooklyn knew this from firsthand experience. She'd witnessed over the past few days Tig with his daughter, Fawn. They obviously had a strained relationship, Fawn wary of her father, while Tig appeared to be trying his best. Kerrianne appeared to have adjusted well to the move, and even took being under lockdown in stride. She seemed to have a good relationship with her father, one that reminded Brooklyn of her own father with Indiana. Those two had a good relationship, a well-balanced one. Her own relationship with her father, however, needed work. RJ giggled in his seat when she gave him a little push, he shot her the 'Quinn grin' the shared trait between Rane, Indiana, Brooklyn, and even little RJ.

"You know," Tara said, breaking Brooklyn from her thoughts, "If you ever need a bit of time alone, I would look after RJ for you. I know how tough lockdowns can be, especially with kids. I have Jax who can help out, Lyla's helped me too. Sometimes a half hour of alone time can work wonders."

Brooklyn gave it some consideration before nodding. "Thanks for the offer. I might take you up on it some time." Maybe. Right now, she still needed to keep her son close. Raw fear still lingered in her system, the man in her house, waving that bloody knife. White spots dotted her vision and she quickly reached out and grabbed part of the swing set's structure.

"Hey, you okay?" Tara asked, alarmed. She left her son swinging, and grabbed Brooklyn under her elbow to help steady her. "Brooke?"

"I'm good." The spots faded and she caught her breath. "Just thinking." She didn't want to get into detail, even the memory had the power to chill her right to the bone. After a few deep breaths, she stood on her own. "Can I ask you something, Tara, something personal?"

"Well," Tara shifted, a little nervous. "I guess."

"How do you do this?" Brooklyn gestured with her hands to the clubhouse, the parking lot. "This life. I was an entity outside of it. I've been someone within those walls. I've been with sons. My father is a son, my sister is so tied into it and I just," her eyes went to her feet, "I just don't know if it's worth it."

Tara swallowed at the weight of the question. "It isn't easy," she said softly. "I've sacrificed so much, I've had so much taken from me. I was a surgeon. A respected surgeon, I spent years training, specialized in neo-natal care." Her dark eyes went to the scars on her arm. "I risked everything to help the club. I lost my position." A dark smile crossed her lips, and her voice lowered so only Brooklyn would hear. "And now, I'm just 'the biker whore.'" She shrugged. "At least, that's what I hear in the whispers around town. Charming isn't a big place. Luckily, most people either respect or fear the club enough to keep their mouths shut, but it hurts, to know that's what is thought of me." She took a deep breath, and considered her life for a brief moment. "The thing is… these men have become my family. However unorthodox they are, they will drop everything and anything for you. They make me laugh, they make me feel safe. They're my friends, my family. I love them."

"So you're saying it is worth it," Brooklyn asked. "The good outweighs the bad."

Tara smiled and ran her hand over Abel's blond hair. Her eyes went to where Thomas waved his arms while Trinity had him standing on her thighs. Both the little boy, and his aunt were smiling. Jax caught her eye and he winked at her. A vehicle pulled in and parked, Gemma emerged, and Tara's mood shifted from happy to wary. "Can't live with them, can't live without them," she muttered. Turning her attention back to Brooklyn, she shrugged. "I can't believe how 'Gemma-like' I'm about to sound, but I live for my boys." Tucking her hands in the pockets of her jeans she looked around. Bobby and Lowen were conversing at a picnic table, Unser joining them. Tig stood with Fawn and Isaiah. Chibs and Fiona sat side by side on the edge of the ring, his arm around her shoulders while they talked. Family. "I love these people. This is my home. I… I can't imagine my life any other way."

Brooklyn spotted Dax emerge from the clubhouse and immediately light up a cigarette. Tara's words certainly gave her something to think about. She returned her attention to her son and gave him a little push in the swing and he wiggled his legs with excitement. "Thank you, Tara."

Tara smiled. "Any time."

::

"I did not!" Chibs laughed, his arm remaining around his wife's shoulders as they sat hip to hip on the edge of the ring.

"You bloody well did so!" Fiona argued, giggling madly. "Given, you were high on pain meds at the time."

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, not quite able to keep the laughter back. "A unicorn? I promised our young daughter a fucking unicorn?"

"When she was seven," Fiona insisted. "She had read a book in school about magical unicorns, and begged you to get one for her, and you were so out of your mind that you agreed. Not only that, you went on a tangent about how you knew a unicorn wrangler."

"No," he said in horror.

"Oh yes," she insisted, smile still in place. "I wish I would have been able to record that moment. You told her that you'd be able to get a unicorn in any colour she wanted, as long as that colour was pink, blue, purple, or green. White ones are too rare, and have bad attitudes."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, the fuzzy memory formed. "Oh god," he groaned.

Fiona stopped then, a great sadness coming over her. Of course, Kerrianne had her stubborn streak and her father's temper, which meant for months after the promise, the girl kept asking when she'd be getting her unicorn. But their world had been turned upside down, and when it did, Kerrianne stopped asking much of anything.

Chibs sensed the change in his wife, who now stared out at the parking lot, away from him. He rubbed his thumb over her shoulder, while trying to figure out what killed the mood. Quickly, he caught on. "And then… Jimmy."

"Aye," she said softly. "And then Jimmy."

He pulled her close and kissed her temple. "We'll make a lifetime of good memories to make up for the time apart. That, I promise you, my love."

She smiled. "I'll hold you to that."

::

After Quinn had given Nero his thanks, and gotten Indiana settled in a rather nice room, he led the exhausted Tink to the room two doors down. The walls were dark blue, gold trim, the bed solid wood, and the sheets were black silk. Tink didn't pay the décor any mind, she just flopped face first down on the bed. "I never thought I'd miss being horizontal," she muttered into the mattress.

Quinn grinned, and pulled the straps on the back of her stilettos off her heels. He put them together on the floor by a little night table. "Do you want to shower first?"

"As delightful as a shower sounds, I don't even know if I can get vertical again," she muttered sleepily.

"Come on," he insisted. He'd been away, following leads to Zobelle, and he'd left his Old Lady to take care of his injured daughter. It needed to be done, but now he was here, and now was time for him to take care of his woman. He hauled Tink to her feet, and she stared up at him with absolute exhaustion. "Thank you," he whispered before kissing her.

"She's my daughter too," Tink whispered in return.

"Not just for that," Quinn said. "For everything."

Tink smiled. "I could thank you for the same. Shower," she insisted, "I want to get back into that bed." He wiggled his eyebrows. "For sleep, Rane, for sleep!" He laughed, and guided her to the adjoining bathroom.

::

Once her parents were gone, Indiana experimented with her range of movement. In the hospital, Tink had been watching her like a hawk. Raising her arms hurt, sitting up hurt, standing hurt, moving hurt, and each breath made her ache. The pain, however, had receded considerably from when she first woke. It hurt, but she could manage.

She pressed her hand on the side dresser, and stood up slowly. It hurt, but she could hold her own. She walked to the window, the steps didn't hurt as much as getting up did. Time would heal her.

Her room in Diosa had a masculine design to it, slate grey walls, bulky sleigh bed in a light coloured wood. A large, ornate mirror stood against one wall. Her reflection made her swallow hard. Pale skin, dark circles under her eyes, the track pants were apparently from Brooklyn, they were a little short as Indiana had outgrown her older sister during her mid-teens. The oversized grey t-shirt she wore had the scent of her father's aftershave, and it made her feel safe. She pulled up the shirt, and looked at the bandage over where she'd been shot. She pealed the bandage off and stared at the angry red circle on her chest, the skin puckered, and almost had a starburst effect. Above her breast, she looked at the red line where Tink had cut her in order to save her when her lung collapsed. She'd scar. She'd have those ugly marks on her forever. With anger and sadness, she pulled the shirt back down. The image in the mirror looked like an entirely other person. Her hair had at least been brushed out by Tink before they'd left the hospital, but she still looked unkempt.

She took slow, careful steps around the room. Diosa. A brothel. She was recovering in a brothel. She couldn't hold back the smile. Only in her life. Diosa… something about Diosa. Memories shifted in the back of her mind, and then slid out of her grasp like a dream she tried to remember as it faded away. The memory felt important, she paused and put her hands on the back of an ornate chair. "Diosa," she muttered, trying to will the memory back. "Diosa, Diosa, Diosa."

Annoyed as the memory slipped away, her fingers dug into the chair. "Come on, think, Irving said something about Diosa," she said as it came to her. "Something." She closed her eyes and despite the fear, she forced herself to remember the shooting. The events came out of order, some of them were bits of the lies she'd fed Roosevelt, untrue memories that had never happened. "Damn it, focus!" Deep breaths, while she tried to calm herself. "Eyes." Her own snapped open. "He had someone here making sure I did what I was told."

Urgently, she walked through the room, hardly feeling the pain in her chest. She went directly down the hall and banged on Nero's office door.

Nero opened the door. "Indiana!" Alarmed, he grabbed her arm. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she said quickly, before he could continue. "But I remembered something, something I needed to tell you."

"Here, come in, take a seat," he insisted. Having been shot before, he knew how painful the recovery process could be.

She lowered herself carefully into the plush leather seat. "Thanks."

"You should be resting."

"It's important," she insisted. "Besides, I've spent days in bed, I'm rested enough for this."

Nero nodded, and gestured for her to continue.

"It's something that Irving said when he had me and Happy." Her fingers twisted in the shirt she wore. "When he called, he made sure I alerted no one. He said he had eyes in here, or something like that. There is someone who worked for Irving still working here."

Nero sat back in his seat, his brow furrowed. "Shit."

"I thought you should know."

"Thank you. You know, I had two girls take vacation, starting the day after…"

"After I was shot," she supplied bluntly.

He nodded. "It must have been them."

"When are they supposed to be back?"

"Yesterday."

"No show?"

"Nope." Nero sat back in his seat. "I'll deal with it."

She figured she knew what that meant, but didn't want it confirmed. "Okay. And thank you, for the room. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome, anything I can do. You've done more than enough for my business. When you're better, I want to talk to you."

She raised an eyebrow. "About what?"

"A job. Full-time."

"I… I don't know, I mean, my life is in Red Willow." Her fingers tightened around the arm rest. "I still have my house there, all of Mac's things, I just…"

"I know," he said softly, seeing the stress in her expression. "You've got a lot to deal with. But you've proven yourself to me, and lately, I've lost a lot of faith in my accountants. Might be good to start blank. Just think about it."

She nodded and stood. A real job in her actual field. She would think about it.

::

Happy finished his shift at Diosa, and Tig came in to replace him. While he told himself he only wanted to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, he had earlier asked Lyla which room Indiana would be staying in. On his way to the kitchen, he paused outside her door. Keep walking, he told himself.

Instead, he knocked, and waited outside. When she didn't call out, he figured she slept, and he wanted her to get her rest. He took a step away as the door opened.

"Hap?" Her voice drew him back.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," she replied. She bit her lip and motioned him inside. She left the door open and walked over to the window. The parking lot held an assortment of cars, and only one motorcycle.

He fumbled for something to say. Conversing wasn't his strong suit. "You alright?"

"Been worse," she replied. "You?"

"Fine." They remained at a stalemate for a moment. He took a step closer, the clothing she wore hid her figure, and he wanted nothing more than to feel her, _alive_ , under it all. "I don't think I ever thanked you."

She looked at him over her shoulder. "You don't have to."

He nodded. "But I'm going to."

She smiled softly. "I'm just thankful that you're alright."

He couldn't help himself. Caught up in her spell, he closed the space between them with a couple of quick steps, his lips were rough against hers as his hands cupped her face, desperate to keep her close.

For a minute, she felt no pain. The sinful and yet heavenly distraction of Happy's lips kept her from feeling anything but ecstasy. Her hands slid down his chest, fingers hooked into the top of his jeans and pulled him closer. She moaned against his lips as his fingertips brushed over her breasts during their careful exploration of her body.

He wished the shirt was gone, he wanted her naked, on the bed, and delirious with pleasure. And he wanted it now. Aching with need, his hands slipped under her shirt, and she suddenly let out a sob and pushed against his chest.

A flicker of regret hit him. Not because of what he'd done, but because he'd hurt her. "Sorry," he muttered. "I'll be more careful," he insisted, still wanting her. His hands gripped her hips and pulled her back.

Once again, her forearms braced themselves against his chest and pushed him back. "No. No, stop. I can't," she struggled for breath. "I can't do this. I can't have you do this to me again." He stared at her, confused. Her eyes were wild, desperate. "You can't do this!"

"Do what?" he snarled.

"Make me… make me _feel_ these things!" she snapped. "In case you haven't noticed, I've had to deal with a lot of shit lately. I've moved hours away from home, got involved with the club business, you started toying with me, Mac was killed," she panted with the effort as she tried to continue her rant.

"Calm down," he said, his hands on her shoulders only to have her push his hands away.

"You were run off the road." She sucked in another breath. "And on top of it all, I can hardly catch my breath." She took a few more shallow breaths. "I mean, another time, I could deal with it all, but all together, and then you. I can't. I can't have you toying with my emotions right now, I can't have you _use_ me and then _regret_ it." Tears welled in her eyes and she quickly turned away, trying to hide them. "Please go."

It hurt, to realize the impact he'd had on her. He'd assumed she'd gotten over it years ago. Instead of honouring her wishes, he stepped up behind her once again, his hands slowly curving over her hips. She didn't push him away this time, and he figured, she just didn't have the energy to continue fighting, he wasn't above using that to his advantage.

He pulled the curtain of hair from one side, and pushed it over her opposite shoulder. With her neck exposed he licked a line, and kissed over the column. She responded with a soft sigh, titling her head to give him better access. Her simple submission aroused him. "I'm not fucking around this time," he promised her. "I shouldn't have messed with you when you were younger. Not because I don't care for you then as I do now, but because you were too young."

"I was going on twenty," she argued without heat.

"I respect your father, but he's not going to be an issue this time," his hands skimmed up her sides, over her shirt. "I want you, and I usually get what I want."

She bit her lip, the words had her heart pounding. "I'm not a sweetbutt, Hap."

"No, you sure ain't," he replied as his hands cupped her breasts and her head fell back against his shoulder. "You're mine." At that, Indiana struggled for breath, for coherent thought.

A quick knock, and the door immediately opened. Both Happy and Indiana turned, but a second too late did Indiana straighten out, or Happy move his hands from her breasts. Lyla stood there, the pornstar blushing. "Um, I, ah," she lifted the tray in her hands. "Brought you lunch."

Indiana swallowed hard. "Thank you, Lyla."

"Yeah," she replied, setting the tray on dresser. "I'll just," she pointed over her shoulder at the door.

"Could you, you know?" Indiana bit her bottom lip. "Keep this to yourself?"

Lyla mimed zipping her lips, shot Indiana a wink, and exited the room.

Part of her was grateful for the distraction. Her brain seemed to be functioning once again. She turned to Happy, whose dark eyes were filled with lust. "Can we keep this to ourselves?" she asked softly.

Happy's teeth grinded together. He wanted her, and he wanted others to know she was off the fucking table. He shook his head. "Either you're in, or you're out, Hellcat."

"I'm in, but this needs to stay between us… and apparently Lyla for a while. Until Zobelle is put in the ground. My dad, he's not okay with this," she said motioning back and forth between them. "I don't want him to be distracted right now."

He could see her reasoning, and respect it. He nodded. "But you're not fucking around with someone else."

"I just got out of the hospital," she said. "I have a hard enough time walking around the room, I'm definitely not going to be jumping in the sack with someone." She fussed with the hem of her shirt. "Look, I know it's early for ground rules, but I know Mac messed around on me. I," she sucked in a breath, "I get if you do it too, on the road. Just… be safe about it, alright?"

He remained quiet for a moment. The thought of being with Indiana, and then having road pussy didn't feel right. He could practically feel the head swat his mother would give him just for having the thought. "Let me make this clear," he said, grabbing her chin, and forcing her to look up at him. "We do this, we see how this works. If I make you my Old Lady, there won't be anyone else."

She raised her eyebrows, her disbelief clear.

"I saw what that shit did to my ma," he admitted. "She knew her husband cheated on her, and it crushed her." He couldn't imagine crushing Indiana in the way Mac clearly had done, in the same way one of his mother's husbands had done to her. He had respect for the women who made it into his heart. He wouldn't take Indiana's vitality, and open love, only to stomp on it. He protected his own, even from himself. "I care about you too much to do that to you."

The shock of the words hit her hard. In all the years she'd known Happy, she'd never had him come so close to spilling his heart out. In fact, she was pretty sure this was as sappy as Happy Lowman had ever been in his entire life. She ran her hands over his chest, wanting to be close to him physically in this moment as she felt emotionally. She bit the tip of her tongue to keep from spilling her heart out to him.

He pulled her close, and gently held her in his arms. There, she felt completely safe, and for the first time in years, she felt like she'd come home.


	54. Impulsive

Angus sat in the hotel lobby, flipping through the newspaper. There weren't any articles that kept his interest, but it did make for a good cover. Men in suits came and went. Bellhops were dressed in a ridiculous maroon colour that Angus himself wouldn't be caught dead in. However, the little lady at the counter somehow made the hideous colour work. They'd already spent two nights at the Queen's Hotel and Spa, and had yet to see Zobelle once. He hoped that if he spent enough time by the main entrance that he'd catch sight of the man.

The opulent space had gorgeous crystal chandeliers, marble tile, solid wood tables, and fine leather chairs. The space felt uncomfortable to Angus. He missed the clubhouse, the noise, the chaos. He missed his jeans. He pulled on the trouser pants, but it didn't make them any more comfortable.

In her peripheral, he noticed a woman, and when he turned, he saw Emily coming down the grand staircase. She looked exceptional with her dark curls twisted up into some fancy bun, her body accentuated by a dark sheath dress, with a bold floral pattern. Small diamond earring stood out against the dark backdrop of her hair. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. She had the same spellbinding effect in the bedroom as over the past few nights she'd shown him just how flexible she could be.

If he had taken his eyes off her for a moment, he might have seen it coming.

Instead, he kept his eyes on her, blinded to everything else. She walked directly into a man, stumbled, only to be caught. Angus's hands tightened around the newspaper. Ethan Zobelle. From a distance, Angus watched as Emily spoke with her hands, as she did when flustered. Zobelle smiled, ran his hand down her arm when he replied. She batted those long lashes, and flashed a smile. The two continued talking for nearly ten minutes, after which, she continued on her way, not turning toward Angus once. Zobelle, surrounded by a three guards walked past the seating area, and out onto the street.

Angus stood a moment later, pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and headed out to the sidewalk for a smoke. He watched as Zobelle and his men got into a black SUV, and he jotted down the license plate on his palm. After Zobelle drove out of sight, he stubbed out his cigarette, and with a great deal of anger, set out to find Emily.

::

Indiana sat on the side of the bed. She'd been woken by Nero, who informed her Roosevelt had come to see her. Now, the officer sat across from her in an ornate chair. "More questions?" Indiana asked warily.

"No," Roosevelt replied. "I'm here to give you piece of mind." He had thought a lot about the case. Had spent a good deal of time combing over the facts. He didn't entirely believe that Indiana Quinn had told him the complete truth. However, he did believe that she had been under duress, he did believe- because of the injuries he'd seen on Happy Lowman, because the man hadn't said anything one way or the other- that Happy too had been under duress, and used to force Indiana's hand. He also looked into young Miss Quinn, her schooling made a point- she'd headed fundraisers to help underprivileged kids get a proper education, she'd been a star track runner, head of her class, dean's list, honours student. And when he'd questioned her the first time, he could see that she didn't think he'd give her a fair shot- simply because of who her father is. And, it shamed him to admit, maybe she'd been right.

She took a deep breath. "So, what's happening?"

"You're free on all charges," he told her. She blinked owlishly, her mouth gaped, and she stammered, trying to get words in order. He smiled. "I believe you shot in self-defence. You will not be persecuted."

"You," she paused, unable to believe it, "You believe me?"

Not really, but for the sake of the conversation, "Yes."

She let out a breath. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he stood, having delivered all the news he needed to. "I hope you continue to heal well, Miss Quinn."

She thanked him again, and waited until he walked out before she flopped back on the bed, breathing out a sigh of relief.

::

Jax answered the phone while he balanced Thomas on his hip. "Yeah?"

_"_ _Jax. It's Murphy."_

"Hey, what's the word?"

_"_ _It's a bloody mess here, Jax,"_ the SAMBEL brother informed him. _"Two IRA men were killed. We had nothing to do with it, but they killed our prospect."_ Murphy didn't even sound angry about it, he sounded too exhausted. _"The kid had only been with us a week. Seamus is trying to come up with a solution with one of the Kings, but they're having none of it. Which is why I called. Declan Brogan mentioned that they were still pissed with the California Sons. And he has declared an all-out war against SAMBEL since Scrum offed his buddy Roarke and Roarke's son. We're patching over a MC from Derry. They're young, full of piss 'n' vinegar, and hate for the IRA. Last year, IRA killed their Pres- and his wife and two kids."_

"Shit."

_"_ _Yeah. Shit. We'll hold our own now that we've got some fresh blood in the game. Scrum's still holding on. Doctors are amazed. They want to run some scans now that he's stable. We're worried though. Only a matter of time before Brogan sends someone to finish that job."_ Murphy let out a bone weary sigh. _"Seamus wants to have a plan in the event that Scrum pulls through. He isn't going to be safe here."_

"Most other charters are still running guns. A few of them still have strong IRA ties," Jax replied. "You're thinking SAMCRO."

_"_ _I'm asking you to put the idea out there to your guys. If he pulls through, we'd be shipping him out soon as possible. He's a stubborn asshole, but he'll go if we make it seem better for the club, and it will be. We'll need to have the release and transfer papers ready if he does."_

"I'll let the other guys know."

_"_ _Thanks."_

::

Tara stood in the kitchen, staring into the freezer. Meatballs, two steaks, a whole chicken, but no ice cream. She'd kill for ice cream. Seriously. She shut the freezer door, and pressed her head against it. Lockdown. Fucking lockdown. Jax had Thomas, and Abel had joined Kenny and Piper to play with little army men. The time alone usually helped her recharge, but it only stuck her with thoughts of ice cream, long drives, and grass under her feet. Things she couldn't have. She wouldn't send anyone out for something as impractical as ice cream. There wouldn't be any long, leisurely drives any time soon, and certainly no running around after Abel in the yard barefoot. She told herself she didn't want any of those things, the only reason they were on her mind, was because they were denied to her. She thumped her head against the freezer door.

"You alright?"

Tara froze, and let out a quiet groan. Bracing herself, she turned around. "Hello, Gemma."

Gemma crossed her arms over her chest. She hated Tara who had taken her place in the club as matriarch, who kept her son at a distance, who kept her grandbabies away as completely as possible. "Where is Jax?"

Tara half-shrugged. "Around."

"Smart-ass bitch," Gemma muttered.

"You should show a little more respect," Tara snapped, a week under lock and key making her edgy. "I'm still the one between you and those grandkids of yours."

Gemma stepped in close. "You should show a little more respect, or I'll get rid of that barrier."

The blatant threat chilled Tara to the bones, but she didn't back down. "Get out of my face."

The older woman remained for a moment, just to create more unease in her daughter-in-law. She then turned on her heel and left.

Tara closed her eyes, her frantic heart pounding in her chest.

::

Emily stumbled off balance when a hand came out and grabbed her arm. She tried to scream, but a hand over her mouth cut her off. She stumbled back as the man pulled her into the hidden alcove, and her back hit his chest. An arm around her waist kept her pinned, while the hand over her mouth kept her quiet.

"Relax," the voice snapped.

It took a few extra seconds for her panicked mind to place the voice. Her body relaxed in the hold, and the hands loosened their grip, the one over her mouth falling away. "Angus, you scared me!"

He ignored her fear. "What the hell were you doing? I told you to keep back, to stay away from Zobelle."

"I saw him when I was coming down the stairs. I knew you were in the lobby somewhere. We hadn't seen him yet. I had to do something."

He whirled her around and pressed her against the wall. "You are impulsive, brash, and absolutely infuriating, you know that?"

Happy had warned her against doing such a thing, and Angus had told her explicitly not to, but when she saw Zobelle, she hadn't been able to help herself. The only way everyone would be safe is if the Sons finally put Zobelle out of business. Permanently. And what were she and Angus doing here if not to get leads? Instead of backing down, she just arched an eyebrow at him. "Well, do you want me to tell you what we talked about?"

He kissed her with bruising force, his hands cruising up her body. "You're fucking maddening, Em," he murmured against her lips.

She smirked. "And you wouldn't have it any other way. Come on, let's get back to our room. I'll fill you in."

::

Her lungs thanked her for the breath of air that hadn't been polluted by smoke. Trinity, sick of the stuffy clubhouse, took a seat at the picnic table. She couldn't wait until the lockdown lifted. She'd played more rounds of pool since arriving in America than she had her entire life in Ireland.

A group of men stood on the other side of the lot, all smoking. She saw Juice working on his bike, and Gemma smoking by the trailer with Unser. The clubhouse door opened, and she turned to see Jax come out. When he walked directly toward her, she felt a shudder down her spine.

"Hey," he greeted, taking a seat next to her.

"Hey," she replied softly. As much as she wanted to know about Scrum's condition, she feared what Jax might tell her. She wiped her damp palms against the knees of her jeans. "Everything okay?"

"More or less," he replied. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered her one, which she accepted. "Scrum is still holding on." She let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. He lit his own cigarette, and then passed her his lighter. "IRA is pissed with the Sons. SAMBEL and SAMCRO in particular."

"It's going to cause problems, isn't it," Trinity asked, flicking the lighter until she got her cigarette lit.

"There's always something," Jax muttered. "Don't worry about it. We'll handle it."

She nodded, trusting her brother at his word.

The door opened again and Quinn came out, when his eyes met with Jax, he walked over. "Sorry to interrupt," the big man said.

"I can go," Trinity said, figuring the men wanted privacy to talk about business. "I'll see how Juice is doing with that bike of his." She held up the cigarette. "Thanks for this."

"No problem," Jax replied, and waited until his sister had half-way crossed the lot before turning to Quinn. "So, what's going on?"

"Just got a call from Angus." Quinn took a sip of his beer, still worried from the conversation. "Emily talked to Zobelle."

Jax stared for a second. "I thought Angus was keeping her away from him."

"That was his intent, I assure you," Quinn shook his head. Most of the men were incredibly protective of their own, Angus being no exception. "He got a license plate, I gave it to Dax. Emily playing coy, and tourist, got Zobelle to name his favourite place to eat in the area. Angus checked the place out, hung around a bit, and Zobelle and his boys showed up for dinner."

"I'll bring the boys in for church," Jax said, eager to have the entire Zobelle mess put to rest.

::

"I want to go outside," Indiana muttered as she laid on her back. Happy, whose shift at Diosa had ended a half-hour ago, sat in the ornate chair beside her bed. "I'm not allowed to do any exercises that put any weight on my arms. I can walk around the room, and that's about it."

"Not yet," he replied. "It isn't safe."

"I know, but I'm so fucking bored." She sat up, pleased that it no longer created a stabbing pain to do so. A little ache, more of an annoyance than agonising. She smirked. "I spy with my little eye-"

"Oh, fuck off." He grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and pulled her closer. Their lips crashed together, and in a second she'd abandoned the bed in favour of straddling his lap. She wore a loose 'Give Me Coffee' t-shirt, and a pair of drawstring pajama pants, neither garment were particularly in his way.

His hands were careful as they slid under her shirt, but he couldn't help but grip the hem when she rocked her hips against his. He'd been careful with her since they tentatively decided to get together, they'd shared kisses, but with Tink staying at Diosa, and frequent check-ins it hadn't become anything more.

She burned with desire. Energy that she'd been lacking for days seemed to return all at once. She wanted him. _Now_. Her hands flattened as they ran down his chest, feeling the hard plains. Her memory of him hadn't done him justice, and that had been one fantastic memory. His hand twisted in her hair, and pulled. The dozens of little pains at the back of her skull tingled even as her head tipped back, her neck becoming completely exposed. His lips against her neck had her squirming against him.

He enjoyed the taste of her skin, the scent of her flesh, the feel of her pressed against him. He released her hair in favour of grabbing her shirt hem with both hands and pulling it over her head. She hadn't bothered with a bra, not that her small chest couldn't get away without wearing one, but still, the sight made him achingly hard.

Self-consciously, she pulled back a bit, tried to cover her body with her arms, particularly the new scars that she didn't know how to deal with.

He gripped her wrists and tugged her arms back to her sides. A starburst under her breast where the bullet had gone in, and a small, thin, straight mark where Tink had alleviated the pressure.

"I know, they're ugly," she muttered, her eyes on the floor, looking longingly at the t-shirt.

He kept a hand on her bottom as he stood, taking them the step to the bed, and laying her down. She blinked, a little surprised by the sudden change of position. He kissed both scars and then her lips. "They're fucking sexy."

Her lips curved under his. "Only you would think so."

"I'm the only one who needs to," he growled back at her.

She giggled. "Shut up and kiss me."

And he did.


	55. Living On The Edge

The hotel had a small café, and Emily and Angus sat on the patio. It was a good vantage point to watch the comings and goings of people. Angus was on his third coffee of the morning, and was getting a little wired off the caffeine. His leg bounced with excess energy.

"Maybe he's staying in today," Emily said, she'd had a tea, a scone, and a coffee in her time on the patio and frankly, would rather be back up in their hotel room with the big bed. Or down in the spa. She'd love a good massage. She looked to the door as more men entered. Her foot brushed against his. "Don't turn, but he just came in with two other guys."

Zobelle walked toward them, although her eyes hadn't met his, so she figured he headed for the part of the patio closest to the street. Eventually though, his eyes did meet hers and she offered a warm smile. "Hello again."

He paused by her table, looked at her, then to Angus, who didn't back down from the eye contact. Zobelle turned his eyes back to Emily and looked her over. "Hello. Did you try that restaurant I suggested?"

"We have reservations for tonight," Emily replied. "Thank you so much for telling me about it."

He nodded, looked to Angus once again, and turned back to Emily. "Well, I hope you enjoy it. I must be going. A business meeting."

"Oh yes, have a good day." The second he passed, the smile fell from her lips. She waited a few beats, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart. She really wanted to break her mug over his head. "Business?" she said softly.

"Yeah, he just shook hands with two men in suits." Angus didn't like it. "Come on. You're going to check out the spa."

"Really," she lit up for a second, thus far, he'd refused to let her go. "Wait, why?"

"Because you'll be surrounded by people there, and I know how much you want to check it out before we leave."

Her brow furrowed with suspicion. "What about you?"

"Something is bugging me. I'm going to go check it out." He left a tip, grabbed her hand and pulled her from the café.

::

Happy eased off from the kiss. Dark eyes inspected Indiana's body, tan-lines, scars, faint bruises, slight but dangerous curves, and those large eyes she never quite grew into. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and he swallowed hard before backing off. He grabbed her shirt off the ground. "Put it back on."

A sharp piercing dread stabbed her. "Hap?"

His dark eyes narrowed on her. "You want to keep this between us until Zobelle is dead, right?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Then put your fucking shirt on," he leaned in, putting the garment in her hand. "Otherwise, everyone in this whore-house will be hearing you scream."

The thought made her both delighted and uncomfortable. She fiddled nervously with the shirt, but couldn't wipe the grin off her face. "Okay then," she said finally, and carefully pulled the shirt back over her head.

"I should get back to the clubhouse," Happy said, trying to think of anything but the tent in his jeans. "See what's going on there."

She chewed on her bottom lip, trying to distract herself from her sexual frustration. "Lockdown still holding?"

"Yeah."

"Glad I'm not there then. Lockdowns fucking suck. And after this long, people will catch the crazy."

Too late. People were at each other's throats. Fights were verbal, a few were physical, and Happy had enough experience under such situations to know it would only get worse. He grabbed his kutte, and pulled it on. "I'll see you soon, Hellcat."

"Stay safe, Hap."

::

Angus stood outside of the restaurant that Zobelle had told Emily he enjoyed. Something didn't sit well with him. Although, he had been there before and watched Zobelle and his men have a meal, they hadn't left right after. Instead they disappeared for over an hour before leaving back out the front door and returning to the hotel. He doubted that Zobelle took so long complimenting the chef, or flirting with a member of the waitresses. So, where had he gone during that time?

The building spanned the entire block, the restaurant nestled in the middle, while a café, a couple of specialty shops, and a hair salon flanked it. The main floor of the restaurant had a large window showing the lovely table settings. The other two floors had smaller windows- like the rest down the row, although they all seemed to be apartments with different tenants judging by the different curtains. The ones above the restaurant were completely blocked out. Before leaving, Jax had filled him in on everything that had gone down before with Zobelle. Heroin had been involved. Could that be the reason for the blocked out windows? A storage place for product perhaps?

Seeing a few women walking down the street toward him, he smiled and approached them. "Good day, ladies."

The blonde one smiled immediately, while the brunette giggled. "Hi," Blondie said.

While he had no interest in either, he kept the smile on and leaned toward her. He'd realized just how he could affect women back in high school, and he'd only gotten better over the years. "I'm not from the area, I had a question, and thought maybe one of you two lovely women could help me out?"

The blonde bit her bottom lip. "Sure, what do you need?"

"I'm looking for an apartment. The windows above that restaurant are all blacked out. Does that mean they're empty?"

The two women looked at one another, and smiled wickedly. "Oh, they're in use," Blondie said, giggling.

"Oh really?" He wondered what went on up there. What had kept Zobelle? Since the women seemed to know more, he pried. "What for?"

"Come on, love," the brunette said with a smoky voice that made him think of bedrooms and handcuffs. She hooked her arm around his. "We'll do better than tell you."

"Yeah," The blonde took his other arm and smiled up at him. "We'll show you."

::

Tara paced outside. The air outside didn't hold the stagnant stink of smoke and beer, but it still felt as hot and confining. A truck pulled into the lot, expected, since Tig had left for his shift at Diosa. Left. Freedom, sweet fucking freedom. She stared longingly out to the street as V-Lin pushed the chain fence back into position.

Risk for reward. What were the odds Toric even gave a shit anymore? He hadn't done anything in… _how long have I been here?_ It felt like forever. Her skin itched, how much longer could she stand to be in that clubhouse? To have to face Gemma day after day? To deal with the Croweaters who kept looking longingly at her husband? To convince her eldest that this was just an extended sleepover even though Abel had already requested half a dozen times to go home?

She turned and nearly walked right into Happy. "Hey."

He stopped since she'd ended up directly in his way, and nodded his head in acknowledgement. A toothpick dangled from his lips, his tongue pushed it to the other side as he studied her. Her eyes looked a little wild, like some animal locked up too long. So, lockdown had gotten to her too. Unsurprising. He doubted that he would do any good staying in one place either. The few days spent at the hospital had been long enough, and there, he'd had purpose. She just kept staring at him, as though she expected him to say something.

The toothpick switched sides again. "Hey."

She half smiled. "How was Diosa?"

God, she looked to him for conversation? Shit. "Fine."

She nodded. "How's Indiana?"

"Fine." Better than fine- especially when topless.

Tara struggled for something else to say. She just wanted to have her mind taken off her situation, if only for a few minutes. Of course, she should have picked a better target than Happy for a discussion. She huffed out a breath. "This lockdown is brutal. When do you think it will end?"

"For everyone else, when Zobelle is dead. For you, when Toric is dead too."

Her head tipped back in defeat, she stared up at the cloudless sky. "I want out of here."

"You aren't going-"

"Anywhere," she cut him off. "I know. I know, but it doesn't change the fact that I want to."

He studied her. Keeping people locked up too long often made them unbearable. He still remembered a decade ago at a lockdown in Tacoma. A Croweater had ended up killed right in the clubhouse. What a fucking mess! You had to do something to prevent the crazy. "Talk to Jax," Happy urged- thinking maybe the Pres would just screw his wife hard enough she'd forget all this shit for a while. Before Tara could say anything further, Happy's phone started ringing. "I have to get this," an explanation before he turned from her, one only given because of her status within the club. Most other women wouldn't get so much.

The number on the screen had his heart twisting. "Ma?"

"No, it's your Aunt." She said in that tone that told him he was in deep shit. "Nice to hear you're still alive, Manuel. You never call!"

He grimaced. There were few people who could make him feel so guilty in such a short amount of time. "Tia Marietta, how are you?"

"Fine, other than the fact I'm buried in medical bills. I took on a job at café. The pay is shit, but it helps."

His aunt should be retired, completely fucking retired. "How much debt are we talking?" When she told him, he made his way over to the garage and sat down on a milk crate. "Well fuck," he muttered.

"Watch your language," she snapped. "However fitting it is."

"I'll figure something out."

"What are you going to do? Rob a bank?" Marietta asked. "This is a lot of money. Carina is to go for another treatment at the end of the week. We have no more money, no more credit."

His family was suffering where he should be providing. "I'll figure it out. Now let me talk to Ma."

"No. She's resting. She hasn't been sleeping well. I will not wake her."

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Alright. I'll call her when I can, and I'll have the money by the end of the week." _Somehow._

"Fine. Stay safe, Manuel. Try not to do anything stupid."

She hung up on him before he could say anything back. His personal failure weighed heavily upon him. No matter what, he'd find a way to make that money. They really needed to end Zobelle.

::

Inside the clubhouse, Tara found her husband trying to get Abel to eat a sandwich, but the kid just kept eating the chips on the other side of the plate. Rather than say anything, Tara leaned over her son, who looked up and then giggled. "Hi mom."

"Hi baby," she took the top piece of bread off the sandwich, grabbed the handful of chips and spread them out over the ham and cheese, and put the bread back. "Eat it."

"Yummy."

Jax stared at the sandwich for a second, before turning to his wife. She shrugged. "It all ends up in the same place anyway, if he eats it this way, what's the harm?"

"I guess," Jax replied.

"Bite?" Abel asked him, offering him the sandwich. Jax opened wide and Abel pulled the sandwich away. "Hey! Fish nibble! Not shark bite!"

Jax burst out laughing. He took a small bite of the sandwich, and decided while odd, the chips in the sandwich didn't bother him. He turned to his wife as Abel returned to eating his sandwich. "Hey Darlin'."

She leaned down and kissed Thomas, who rested in his father's arms, and then kissed her husband. "I need out of here, Jax," she whispered. "Please. Just an hour. Please, I need this."

His expression hardened. "Tara-"

"I'm not asking to go far, I'm not even asking to go home. Just down the block… we could get ice cream. I'm sure Abel would love that. Please. Just an hour that isn't here."

Jax had listened to Abel asking when they were going home, when they could go to the big park, when they could go for a drive. He knew both his wife and son needed some space, a change of scenery. While right now the safest place for them to be was surrounded by his brothers, in a place of their own protection, he understood the need to be free. He stood and passed her Thomas. "I'll find a few guys to go with us. To make sure you're safe. And the ice cream place down the road, nothing out of town, nothing far."

She could almost weep with relief. "Thank you, Jackson," her breath caught and she realized tears really did fall. "I really need this."

His thumbs brushed over her cheeks feeling guilty for her tears, as they were his fault. It all went back to him. "Stay here. I'll come back for you when everything is worked out."

"Okay." Tara smiled widely, despite the tears.

He kissed her forehead and went to round up a few good men.

::

Tink had sent out Harry out for a few things for Indiana. When she did, she should have been more specific. Indiana held up one of the large black men's t-shirts. Against her frame it would cover everything from her neck to her butt, the 'short sleeves' nearly reaching her elbows. Tink frowned. "I should have specified a women's large."

Indiana generally preferred picking out her own clothing. She knew her body best. Sometimes she could fit a medium, but mostly, her lanky build demanded a large. There were pitfalls though, some larges, while they fit to her hips and long sleeves to her wrists, were still too big in the torso and she'd end up drowning in fabric- like she did in a boxy men's large. She looked in the bag, another three of the same shirt. Of course Harry wouldn't bring any variety, or anything that could be- even remotely- called sexy.

She pulled out a six pack of underwear. She opened it and pulled out one. Basic white granny-panties, about four sizes too big. Her teeth grinded together. "Couldn't you have had a Croweater or something go with him?"

Tink smirked. "Sorry. I'll have to all him to pick up a different size. I said small."

"This pack only has numbers. I'm pretty sure he just got pissed and grabbed one."

"You're likely right," Tink laughed.

Indiana peeked into the next bag. "Oh god," she groaned, and shot Tink an incredulous look. "Really?"

"What?"

"You sent him for bras too?"

"Well, we didn't have a lot of options," Tink shrugged. "Either send him or go without."

"I'd rather go without than have Harry know my bra size, thanks." Indiana pulled out the bra. "That motherfucker! It's a goddamn training bra."

Tink bit down on her bottom lip, trying her damnedest not to laugh. "I'll call him… tell him to give the list to a lady and return this shit."

"Also, tell him he's an asshole."

"Yeah, no."

::

The Charming Creamery sold a variety of dairy products, but was best known for its ice cream. During the hottest months, the place used to be packed to the brim with young families, and teenagers meeting over milkshakes. Lately, teenagers drove out of town, not wanting to stay in the stuffy, boring Charming. On the business end, it had a few hard years, and for the owner's even harder ones. The aging proprietors had an ill son, and instead of putting money into the upkeep of their business, it went to him. To gain quick money, they stopped sales on cheese, sold the equipment and the industrial space. The loss of the cheese sales, and making loyal buyers angry, the business took yet another turn for the worse. For these reasons, there was a 'shop closing' sign on the window.

For now, the thirty percent off of remaining stock worked nicely. Jax walked in with his wife and sons. Following behind them was Bobby, who had driven up front with Jax, Happy, who had driven Tara and the boys in her vehicle, and Filthy Phil, who'd brought up the rear.

He watched Tara and Abel both look past the glass of the ice cream case to choose their flavour while old Mr. Greene waited patiently with his ice cream scoop. They'd needed this. His Tara looked over her shoulder and shot him a beautiful smile. "You want anything?"

"Na. I'm good."

"Bobby? Phil? Hap?"

"They can get something themselves," Jax protested with a grin. "I'm not paying for these assholes."

Bobby laughed. "Sure you are. Get me vanilla."

"Dick," Jax shot at the older man. He turned to the other two. "You getting in on this shit?" Filthy Phil went to check what kinds they had, but Happy refused.

Once everyone had their ice cream and settled in the booth, Jax fed Thomas little bits of ice cream from a bowl. The little boys' eyes widened, although whether surprised by the cold, or the flavour, Jax couldn't tell. He smacked his lips, giggled, and opened his mouth for more.

Tara licked the ice cream scooped onto of a cone. Rocky road. Sweet, sweet Rocky Road. It tasted like freedom with a side of a good orgasm. Too fucking fantastic for words. Her eyes met with Jax's, and with that good orgasm on her mind, she gave the ice cream on her cone a long, slow, sexual lick. His jaw tightened. She smirked.

Abel walked around a bit while he licked his cookie dough ice cream. He stopped near Happy, who stood as a lookout near the front entrance, and looked up at the tall man. "Why you no get ice cream, Happy?"

Happy gave the kid a half shrug. Ice cream is a frivolous expense, and he had plenty of more pressing financial matters. He was always mindful of excessive spending, even more so since his mother had gotten sick. During his youth, his mother had cut coupons to make ends meet, there were no afternoon sundaes in his childhood, they couldn't be afforded.

"Want a lick?" the kid asked, raising his ice cream cone like he was the fucking statue of liberty.

"No."

"No?" the kid looked at him in shock. "Does you not like ice cream?"

"Never had it." As his mother's frugality had extended to him, he never felt the need to eat flavoured milk, sugar, plus whatever bullshit additives kept it all together. It had no benefit, and so he'd never bothered.

Abel stared in shock. "Never?"

Happy didn't see the big deal, but the kid acted as though he'd never heard of Santa Claus. "No."

"Mom!" Abel shouted across the parlour. "Happy has never had ice cream. Not ever. Not once!"

Tara licked ice cream from her upper lip. "What?"

"Happy needs ice cream. He never had it before. How can he nots has it?"

Happy noticed that even Tara looked personally offended by his lack of ice cream eating. "What are you?" she asked. "Lactose intolerant, because really, that's the only excuse you have for not having a cone in your hand right now."

Happy shook his head, and turned to his president for a little back up. When Jax offered, none, he turned to Bobby instead, who simply shrugged. "Just get something," was his advice. "The kid'll likely hound you until you do."

"Yep," Abel grabbed Happy's hand, and Happy felt a sense of dejavu. Indiana's little hand hadn't been afraid to grab him either. "Come on," Abel pulled. "I'll tell you the good kinds."

::

Shopping for a woman once was bad enough.

Having to go a second time might lead him to a manslaughter charge.

Harry looked around the room, the phone still pressed to his ear as Tink asked him if he still had the list. "Yeah, I fucking have it, but where the fuck is Quinn? It's his kid."

"He's helping Nero. They had a problem with one of the girls, and Rane wanted to help since Nero is letting Indie stay here."

"Oh, fuck me," he muttered.

"I'm sure my husband would have a problem with that," Tink shot back, a bit of laughter following. "Just take a woman with you, you'll be in and out of the stores in no time."

"Take a woman shopping? In and out in no time? I fucking doubt it."

"Harry, please. I'd go if I could, but Rane would literally handcuff me to the bed next time he left so I couldn't go anywhere. You could try passing it off on Cricket."

He finished off his coffee. He wouldn't pass off a task asked of him, and she damn well knew it. "I'll fucking do it." He hung up before Tink could say anything more.

"I'm sorry," a blonde woman said, her voice lilted with an Irish accent. "I heard you say you were going shopping, and needed a woman for the job?"

"Who the hell are you?"

"Maureen Ashby," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest. "I need to pick up a few things. Figure we can help each other out. I can't leave without an escort."

He held up the list. "You figure you can handle this?"

"Ah, what? You keepin' a fucking teenager locked up in your house or something?"

"Watch your tongue," he snapped back, trying to keep a leash on his temper. "For my goddaughter. She's-"

"The one that got shot?"

That still got to him. That kid had been a light in his life. The kind of innocence and sweetness that could pull the good out of just about anyone. Even him. "Yeah."

"Alright, let's go."

::

Tara asked Bobby to take care of her boys for a little while, and the man quickly agreed. She then dragged Jax down the hallway, she poked her head into their bedroom- as during a lockdown, people often crashed wherever, whenever- luckily, it was empty. "Thank god," she said, pulling him in, shutting the door and pushing him back against it.

That cocky grin took over his features. He opened his mouth to speak but her lips fused over his, and he forgot what he'd been about to say. Her hands wasted no time slipping under his shirt. She pulled back just long enough to pull his shirt over his head and then her lips rejoined his. The hunger burned within her, hot, desperate.

She kissed his jaw, his neck, shoulder, collarbone, over the tattoo of Abel's name, down his impeccable abs. On her knees, she quickly clawed at the belt, hastily extracting him from his jeans.

"Darlin', if the lockdown crazy makes you this horny, I swear I'll keep you locked up forever."

"The hell you will," she said shooting a lethal look his way. "And you don't want to say such things when my teeth will be in such close proximity to your genitals."

He swallowed hard. "Noted."

"Good." She licked the line of hair from his boxer briefs to his belly button. "Now keep your mouth shut unless it's to tell me either how good you feel or how much you want to fuck me."

That cocky grin returned. "Yes ma'am."

::

Angus climbed the steps with a growing sense of dread. Since the staircase was so narrow, and he'd insisted ladies first, he quickly pulled out his phone and texted Emily the quick and dirty details of where he was and if he didn't call back in ten, to forward it to Jax's. He didn't have time to wait for a response, and quickly pocketed his phone.

Jessie- the blonde, and Kate- the brunette, opened the door, and nodded to security. "He's with us," Jessie said, pulling Angus in after her.

A lounge setting, low music, expensive drinks, and if he wasn't mistaken, designer drugs. Big money, small risk- the people who could afford to be here, were unlikely to tarnish their reputations by coming around high as a motherfucker and causing shit- that and they wouldn't want their recreational habits coming up on any potential drug tests. He knew his drugs having spent a good amount of time with the Reno charter who specialized in them.

"I'll grab us drinks, and a little something-something," Kate said, shooting Angus a wink and pushing past a swinging door.

This was a bad place for him to be. If the cops came around, with his record, he'd be in big shit. Worse, if he was right, and Zobelle had something to do with this building… Zobelle had told Emily that the restaurant was his favourite place to eat… he worried he might have walked right into a trap. Adrenaline hit his system. He hadn't turned off his ringer, but Emily hadn't replied.

He kept the wave of panic to himself, and shot Jessie a sly grin. "I'd love to stay, but I have prior engagements to keep. Besides, as lovely as you and Kate are, I have a girl at home. I should be leaving."

Jessie pouted. "Oh come on. One drink. She'll never know."

"Sorry, no can do." He turned, and got past the bouncers. His phone started ringing in the stairwell and he let out a breath of relief. His Emily, it had to be.

He didn't pause until he was back out on the street, and merged into the hustle and bustle of those around him. He pulled out the phone and found that the text response had a picture.

A picture of Emily with a gun to her head.


	56. Loyal Brothers

Laying in the back of a van, Emily thought about how relaxed she had been on the massage table. The masseuse had known her stuff, working out the tension, strong fingers, along with the light scent of almond oil. Her moment of tranquility hadn't lasted. She'd immediately checked her phone to find Angus's message- which she paid no heed to his 'ten minute then forward,' and instead immediately forwarded it to not just Jax, but to Quinn, and Dax too. She hadn't liked it. Not one bit.

Her head felt foggy, rope burned against her wrists, tape covered her mouth, and she couldn't help but go over every detail of how she'd ended up in this situation.

_She turned a little to look back at the masseuse. "I'm sorry, I need to cut this short."_

_"_ _Oh," the woman had given her a nod nodded. "Okay then." She wiped Emily's back off, and then put the towel in a bin. "I'll let you get dressed. Please come to the front desk when you're ready."_

_Emily dressed in record time, didn't stop to check the mirror, just grabbed her wallet, practically threw the money at the receptionist, and rushed out the door. A moment of blind panic had her chest feeling tight. What if something happened to Angus? It took hours to drive from Charming to Lodi, help would take too long!_

_Her phone went off, and she checked the text message._

**Jax: Lock up.**

_She understood what he meant, to get somewhere safe. He probably wanted to add 'and have your gun out,' but that's not a good thing to have written evidence of._

**Quinn: Leving diosa now dont do nething brash.**

_She almost smiled, Quinn was getting the hang of the whole texting thing._

**Dax: looking into location.**

_Her phone went off again._

**Quinn: Srsly b safe.**

_She shoved her phone back into her purse, but the phone had distracted her for too long. It had been a comfort, to have the words of Sons, whom she knew would have Angus's back, who would bring him back safe. And hell, she enjoyed the safety it brought her. Especially Quinn and Dax, whom she'd known for so long, they were family. That comfort, that moment of weakness had kept her attention off her surroundings. She turned to find herself in the hallway, two men coming toward her, and when she turned, she saw another one coming up behind._

_Not one to simply submit, she went running in the direction with only one man in her way. He must have thought she'd tackle him, because he hunched over a bit, instead, she slid like a pro baseball player trying to get home, right under his arm. She didn't look back, just hurried to her feet and sprinted down the hallway. Once she'd been on the track team with Indiana during their high school, and later, their university years. While she'd never once beaten her friend, she had performed well at meets. Now, her legs burned, but not nearly as bad as her lungs did._

I'm so giving up smoking after this, _she thought._

 _Another man joined, stepping in front of her. Stocky build, large shoulders, bulging muscles._ Fuck! _She didn't slow, either she got past him, or she didn't. She didn't have a gun, and while she did have a can of pepper spray, she didn't want to slow down to use it. It wouldn't be effective in her situation- and how embarrassing would it be if she ended up getting it in her own face during a struggle._

_She faked going right, and dodged left, her forearm slamming against the wall, refusing to give up momentum even if there was a wall in the way. The man caught her by the purse, and she would have given it up, but he then got a cloth over her nose and mouth, and soon after, her struggle went away._

She'd woken in the back of the van, they'd propped her up, taken a picture on her phone and, she assumed, sent it to Angus. After that, they'd pretty much left her alone. Two of the men talked up front, another sat across from her, staring. The fourth from the hallway must have stayed behind, or drove in another vehicle. Trying to escape the bonds did nothing, in fact, the man watching her just smiled as if he enjoyed her struggle.

Even if she did manage to get out of the rope, she still wouldn't get past the guard who sat, watching her. She refused to give in to despair, but stopped struggling. As much as she wanted to fight, to escape, saving her strength at that point looked like the better option.

::

Shopping with Maureen hadn't been as hellish as Harry had assumed it would be. The woman was efficient, he'd give her that. She'd grabbed enough stuff for Indiana, as well as herself and her daughter. "Do you think this lockdown will hold for much longer?" she asked as they walked to the van he'd borrowed.

"A while."

"So specific."

He opened the back doors to the van and threw in the bags he carried. He expected her to set them down nicely, but she followed his lead, tossing them in. "Most girls are more careful with their shit."

"I've had my life uprooted. I'm living in a cramped biker clubhouse, with my daughter, her half-brother, and the woman who was married to the father of my child," she laid it out flatly for him as she climbed into the van. "You severely overestimate my current ability to give a shit about anything that isn't survival."

He pulled his door shut, and almost grinned. "Sounds like you needed to get out."

"You have no idea how much." She fastened her seatbelt, and sat back, embracing the quiet she wouldn't have once they got back.

He took his eyes off the road for a second, turning to her. She had a fine little body on her, and a striking face. His attention returned to driving. "We could take the long way back."

She raised her eyebrow a little. "I'd appreciate it."

"Long way it is."

::

Lyla felt exhausted at only mid-day. She had been up all night, working at Diosa. Now, she wanted to get some sleep, but that dream was unlikely to become a reality. The clubhouse, where Primo was driving her too, would be loud, and the children would need tending. A pothole jostled her, making her slightly more alert. As Primo drove, he kept checking his rear-view mirrors, ever vigilant. She blinked slowly as sleep took over her mind.

Gentle fingers brushed hair away from her face. With slow blinks, her eyes came into focus. "How long was I asleep?" she asked Primo.

"About ten minutes."

Ten minutes to get her through the day. From her spot in the cab of that truck across the parking lot, she could hear the chatter from within. She sighed. "Today is going to be a long day."

He frowned. "Try and get some sleep."

She snorted. "Yeah. Like that's going to happen." To orient herself, she checked the dainty silver watch on her wrist. "Kids are going to need lunch. If I'm lucky, one of the other women have taken care of it by now." She felt a little guilty saying it. She wanted to be there, taking care of them, but she had to work too. Loyal to Nero for giving her such a good paying job-a respectable one- she worked while they weren't getting paid, but now, the cash flow was staying in the accounts, and she had her first check in her bag. Nero promised every cent owed, and she needed it.

His hand rested on her thigh, his thumb rubbing small circles temporarily distracted her from both the thoughts of the kids, the money owed, and even her own exhaustion. "I could take you to my place. Let you get a few hours rest. You're no good to anyone when you're this tired."

It was a sweet offer, but one she couldn't take. She smiled, and kissed him softly. "This is motherhood." With her hands on his shoulders, she jumped to the ground. "Thanks for the ride."

He nodded. "Any time."

Lyla trudged across the lot, the noise getting louder. A few guys were outside, all recognized but unfamiliar. Tacoma written on their kuttes. The loud engine of the truck started, and she turned to wave at Primo as he drove out. She pushed open the door to the clubhouse, the scent of alcohol, sweat, and smoke hit her in a wave. People were shouting over one another, trying to have conversations. The doors to church were closed, and she didn't see a SAMCRO brother during her first quick scan.

"Hey." Lyla turned to see Gemma, who gave her a good once over. "You look like shit."

"Wow," Lyla replied dryly. "Thanks."

"Go get some rest."

"I'm fine," she argued. After all, she'd given up the offered comfort of a quiet place to sleep at Primo's, to come here. At the moment, in all the chaos, she had to wonder why. "Where are my kids at?"

"Ellie's over with Fawn playing pool," Gemma said. "Kenny and Piper are in Jax's room, watching a movie."

"Thanks, Gem." Lyla left the older woman, said a quick hello to Fawn, and wrapped an arm over Ellie's shoulders. "Everything okay?"

"Yep, Fawn's been teaching me to play pool. Jax says that my dad was really good at it."

Lyla smiled sadly, remembering the games she had played with Opie, he had always won, but never by much. Not that she was a good player, he just made it so she never lost badly, but he wasn't so nice a guy as to let her win. Once, when the clubhouse had been empty, she'd decided for every ball sunk, an article of clothing had to go- that was when she found out just how good he was. He sunk every one of his balls in quick succession, she never got her turn back. Not that it mattered, some of the hottest sex she'd ever had happened that night right on the very pool table Ellie and Fawn played at. Grimacing, she wondered if the thing ever got cleaned, because she was sure, she and Opie weren't the only ones who'd gotten laid on that thing. Focusing on the present, she ran her hand over Ellie's hair. "He was, I never won a game against him."

"Not ever?"

"Not ever," Lyla agreed. "Then again, I'm not actually very good at the game. Have you had lunch?"

"Yep. I helped… ah, what's her name," she waved her hand, as if deciding it didn't matter. "One of the Croweater's make sandwiches for everyone."

"Good work. I'm going to check on your brother, and Piper."

"Alright," Ellie bent, lining up her next shot. "See you around."

She found the boys staring at the screen in confusion, and then the audio hit her. The moans were loud, as were the incoherent screams. "Jesus Christ!" She looked at the television, and saw a woman getting brutally fucked. She frantically hit the buttons on the DVD player, accidentally putting it into fast forward, and then into slow-mo, before she gave up and yanked the power cord from the wall. "What were you two doing?" She shouted. The only thing she could be thankful for at the moment, was that it wasn't one of her movies.

"Gemma said we could watch movies," Kenny said with a shrug. "She gave us a box of Jax's."

"Where is the box?" Her hands planted on her hips. Her boys had been watching porn. Her boys. Her babies. Jesus!

Piper pointed to the box on the other side of the bed.

Lyla's stilettos clicked along the floor as she walked over to it. Crouching, her hands flipped through the movies. Most of them were action shoot-'em-up types, which were far too mature for her boys. A couple of pornos were tossed into the mix, and a few straight up horror films which had covers that made her shudder. None of them were appropriate. "You two don't watch anything unless I say so! Got it?"

"What were they doing?" Kenny asked.

Palms covered her eyes, fingers splayed. She took a deep breath, and when that didn't help, another. Her fingers ran through her hair and she sat down between the boys on the the bed. She didn't want to have this talk. Not one bit. She wanted to push it away, deal with it when they were older. Way older. But she couldn't. She, the ex-pornstar who worked at a brothel, she who'd been an old lady to a fallen SAMCRO brother, the kids spent too much time at the clubhouse for them not to see something, hear something, and she figured it better to hear from her than someone else.

"Okay, this is a very adult conversation, I want you boys to know this. This isn't something you go talking about, okay? You two are both too little for this. Oh my God," she groaned and rubbed her temples.

"It looked like… like he hurt her," Piper said worriedly. "Why was the man hurting her, mommy?"

She looked over at her little angel, staring back at her with innocent blue eyes. She was going to fucking strangle Gemma for this.

::

"It'll take hours to get to Lodi." Quinn paced within the confines of Church. He had sponsored Angus, the loyal, incorrigible, argumentative, egotistical little shit. The young man always had a smile, a quick one-liner, he never backed down from a fight, and always had a brother's back. Over the years, Angus had become the son he'd never had. And Emily. Jesus, those bastards had little Emily Nobel. Quinn still remembered the girl's awkward years, Indiana trying to teach her advanced mathematics with little results. Emily had always been people smart, being able to read them, manipulate, trick, or flat out deceive whenever she saw fit. Her advice was gold in Sanctuary, their little on-site psychologist. Ever since the Nobel family moved to Red Willow, Emily and Indiana had been inseparable.

"We need a plan," Dax muttered from behind his laptop.

"Go in, and shoot every single one of those motherfuckers," Harry, the former Nomad SAA who now wore New York on his bottom rocker, said seriously. He'd returned recently with Maureen, after dropping the clothes off with Tink.

"And we'd all end up in prison," Cricket shook his head.

"They've got a brother, and his Old Lady," Harry snapped back. "We shouldn't do a thing less."

"The building is soundproof," Dax muttered.

"Speak up, asshole," Harry demanded.

"There was major reconstruction two years ago," Dax said, finally looking up from the screen. "They made the place soundproof."

"Why?"

"I'm sure they aren't going to put 'because of illegal activity' on the permit," Dax replied dryly. "'Too keep neighbours from being disturbed by the music,' is what they went with."

"We don't even know if they're in that building," Quinn snapped.

"Would you sit the fuck down?" Harry asked. "Fuckin' hell, Quinn, get it together."

"That son of a bitch is the reason why my eldest doesn't have her husband, my grandson won't have a father, and my youngest got fucking shot. Now he's got Angus and Em. Don't tell me to fucking calm down."

"We don't even know if they're in that building," Jax repeated Quinn's words, trying to get them all back onto task.

"Actually, we do," Dax said. "Or, we can assume Angus is still there."

"How?" Bobby asked.

"He carries a smartphone. He doesn't take it on club business usually, but this was supposed to be surveillance," Dax shrugged. "It's got GPS."

"And you tracked that?" Tig asked, a little awestruck. "Wouldn't that carry some serious jail time?"

"Only if I get caught," Dax's eyes returned to the screen. "Emily's phone is still moving. I think she's in a car or something, but they are headed to that building."

"Who do we know in Lodi?" Quinn demanded.

"Grim Bastards," Happy finally spoke. He'd remained silent, taking in the weight of the situation. He took a deep drag off his cigarette, and mulled over alternative options

Chibs smashed his cigarette against the ashtray, the final whips of smoke dying. "Aye, that'll go over well," he said dryly. He turned to the other members who were left in the dark. "The guy who killed Opie was cousins with T.O."

"The Bastards' pres?" Dax asked for clarification.

"Aye," Chibs nodded. "And while we convinced T.O. that we wouldn't kill his cousin if he gave us the names of the other's involved, but we never had intention of keeping that promise. They haven't forgiven SAMCRO."

"Well, we're the closest charter to Lodi," Tig said. "We need to do something."

"And fast," Juice spoke up. "Zobelle had some sick fucks on hire last time."

"Silenced pistols, hit the back, clean house, get out," Harry suggested. "Bring anyone with medical experience, they might need it."

"This could lead to us all doing serious time," Cricket said.

"So what?" Happy asked, loyal to his brothers to a fault.

"So, in case you all forgot, we have more than one asshole trying to bring us down. Toric is still out there," he looked to Jax, and then around the table. "And we still have that little problem where the IRA wants our asses- right now they're beating the shit out of SAMBEL, but that won't keep them for long. If this goes south and we're all stuck in jail waiting trial, no chance of bail being posted, because as we all know this charter is in debt, which means we also won't be making our legal fees, so we'll likely be hauled off to prison once our court date actually does show up, all the while we're leaving everyone we said we'd protect," he pointed to the doors, to where the noise of all under lockdown still came through, "unprotected."

"We split this up then, but we're going," Jax said. "Do I have to put this shit to a vote, or does anyone actually want to let their brother get killed?" No one said anything. "Good." He rubbed his temples. "I'm going."

"No," Happy spoke up, surprising the table. "You stay. Toric is still a problem. You need to be here if we get picked up."

His rage built, he needed vengeance against Zobelle for what he had done to his mother. "Someone else can take care of Tara-"

"No, Jackie-Boy," Chibs shook his head, agreeing with the SAA. "Tara is yours. You need to be here, with your family. Especially with Toric still gunning for her. I'll go to Lodi, I have medical experience."

"I'm going," Quinn said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

After a moment it was decided that Chibs, Quinn, Happy, Harry, Juice, and Tig would go. Chibs turned to Quinn. "I hate to ask brother, but your Old Lady sure would help if they've been injured."

"I'm not bringing her into a battle zone."

"I'm not asking you to, just keep her in the van," Chibs requested. "I was a medic, but if they are injured, if it's anything beyond the basic, I'll be in over my head."

Quinn cursed, loyalty to his brothers put against his desire to keep his Old Lady safe. "Fine." He turned to Happy. "You stay in the van with her?"

As much as Happy wanted to be in on the action, he understood the trust Happy was instilling in him. Just like those times he'd trusted him to look after Indiana. Happy nodded, especially since he still didn't move quite as fast as he did before the accident.

"Alright, let's move," Chibs took to action, and the men moved.

Quinn was first out the door, and found Tink with a small group of women. He pulled her away from them and held her close. "Allison, you can say no."

"Oh shit, you're using my first name and we're not naked," she said with genuine worry, even though she tried to lighten the situation. "What's up?"

"We're going to Lodi to get Angus and Emily. In the even that they were injured-"

"You want me along. I'll get my bag."

"You can say no."

"But I won't," she said over her shoulder, as she rushed to the room to get her supplies.

::

Kerrianne grabbed Juice before he could make it to the door. "What's going on?"

"We know where Angus and Emily are."

She took a deep breath. He looked so focussed, there was no trace of humour in his face, and for the first time, he looked dangerous to her. "You're going to get them?"

Juice nodded.

She swallowed hard. "My da too?"

"Yeah, he's coming."

Her heart raced with the worry. "Okay," she told herself. Both her da and Juice had done crazy, dangerous shit like this before she lived in Charming. There was no reason to worry about it now. They would be fine. Somehow, being there, feeling the mood of the room change from chaos, to some kind of electrified collective anxiety, left her unable to shake her fears. "Be careful. Look after each other."

He nodded again. Chibs's hand rested heavily on his shoulder. "Come on, we got to go."

"Yeah," Juice replied.

Chibs kissed his daughter's temple. "Be good for your Ma."

"I'm not six," Kerrianne muttered, wishing he'd treat her more like an adult. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Juice walk out the door, and when it shut it felt horrifically final. She trailed behind her father when he went out the door, and then darted past him, catching up with Juice, grabbing his arm and pulling him around to face her. Without thought, she bestowed upon him one quick hard kiss square on the lips, pulling away before he even had the chance to respond. " _Be careful_." The exchanged left him looking mildly dazed, and a bit confused.

Behind him, Chibs, who had already said his goodbyes to Fiona, cleared his throat. "Kerri?"

"Don't give him a hard time, Da. He had no idea. Hell, I didn't."

"About what?" Chibs demanded.

"How shitty I'd feel if he left, and didn't come back, and I hadn't kissed him."

Chibs muttered something about teenagers and hormones, before he walked past and slapped Juice on the back of the head. "Come on, numpty, we have work to do."

Instead of immediately obeying, Juice pulled Kerrianne close, and kissed her with the kind of skill she didn't know people had. Despite the intense situation, all her anxiety washed away, and she had the sudden need for _more._ Instead, he pulled away, and she tried to string together a coherent sentence. "What was that?" she marvelled out loud.

"Well, I just realized how shitty I'd feel if I left, and didn't return, and hadn't kissed you back," he shot her a smile, and then left her as he joined the others on the motorcycles.

Fiona stepped up and held her daughter's hand. "He'll be alright. They both will be," she said, spotting the tears welling in her daughter's eyes.

"I hope so," she responded softly. "I really hope so."


	57. Bullets

Indiana's heart pounded in her chest. Tremors ran through her and she desperately wanted to cause severe damage to something. Her father had come, briefly informed her of the situation, and took Tink. It didn't take much to come up with a conclusion as to why. They either knew Angus or Emily were injured, or figured it was highly likely.

Emily had been her best friend since she chose to sit with her in that crowded cafeteria. She didn't have to, in fact, she was warned that it was social suicide, but she sat anyway. Angus wormed his way into Indiana's heart with goofy comments, and pure loyalty. Both of her good friends were in great peril.

The room felt too small to contain Indiana's worry. The thought of her parents going into that danger had her feeling dizzy. Harry was going too. And Hap. Her back pressed against the wall as her knees gave out and she sunk to the floor in despair. Her quick breaths shot pain through her healing lung.

"They will be fine," she told herself, trying to fend off the impending panic attack. She shut her eyes, and remembered Happy's strong arms holding her, the grip of his hand in her hair, forcing her to focus on him, just him. Her breath evened out. "They'll be fine," she whispered, repeating the mantra, praying for good news.

::

When the door to the van opened, one of the men pulled Emily out. Rope rubbed her wrists raw as she struggled, the tape effectively muffling her screams. She was surprised to see the back of a row of buildings, someone pulled boxes out of the back of a van, she continued her struggle, trying to make eye contact. She succeeded, but the man just shrugged, sent an apologetic smile, and continued his work.

She kicked, squirmed, tried to scream past the tape. Nothing gained her anything but a passing look. "They don't give a shit, sweetheart," one of her kidnapper's whispered. "They're all on the payroll."

Dread weighted her heart down, and she struggled not to cry. They pulled her into the back of a building, and directly up a flight of stairs. The shove one of the men gave her in the hallway made her stumble. Their laughter chilled her. Strong hands grab her by the arm, and dragged her back to the first door.

The room had to be sound proofed, because when the door opened, she found soft music playing, and Angus cursing himself blue. His eyes turned to hers, and she saw pain before it turned to rage. "Get off her you elitist douche nazis!"

Zobelle huffed out a dramatic breath, and motioned to the big man next to him. The right fist connected with Angus's jaw, and knocked him with the chair right over. Emily struggled once again, her screams muted under the tape.

"Get him up." Zobelle smiled at Emily. "Get her seated."

And they did. Bound to a chair facing the one Angus was tied to. One of her kidnappers grabbed the tape, and ripped it off her face. It stung, and her skin tingled. Breathing a little easier in the panic, she sucked in a great lungful of air.

"I want to know everything that you've told the Sons of Anarchy," Zobelle started.

"I told you already, you've got us mixed up with someone else," Angus insisted. "I've never even heard of the Sons of Anarchy. Is that some metal band? Sounds like a metal band, doesn't it darlin'?"

"Sure does," Emily replied being sickeningly sweet. "I'm not really into that sort of thing."

"Me either, I prefer Mozart's Concerto Twenty-One," Angus sounded wistful, while his eyes stayed locked on hers. "I love that one."

She knew why. In university, she listened to classical music while working on assignments. Indiana had let him into their place on her way out. He had surprised her, seduced her, and they spent hours making love. When they were exhausted, and wrapped up in each other on her small bed, they listened to Mozart's Concerto Twenty-One. As it played, he kissed her lightly, and told her he loved her for the first time. His bringing it up terrified her. Like he wanted her to remember that moment. "I love it too," she whispered, trying to fend off the tears.

"Never heard of them?" Zobelle shook his head. "Cut off his shirt." He stepped to the side of Angus as the burly man pulled out a knife. "Will I find your gang's ink?"

He didn't take his eyes off Emily. "I thought we were talking about a metal band."

Zobelle shook his head. "Your incorrigible behaviour will not help you."

Emily remained quiet, following Angus's lead. Her man never shut his mouth, so the fact that he did so now made her nervous. Maybe he knew something she didn't. The bruising on his face showed he might have already learned the value of silence. The glint of the knife tearing the fabric of his dress shirt had her hands balling into fists. She feared them cutting him, hurting him. There had to be a way out of this.

The more of the shirt the man cut, the more ink showed. Luckily, Angus had less ink than a lot of the guys in the club, but he had enough to prove he ran with the Sons. The reaper that dominated the space from his right shoulder down almost to his elbow. He had an anarchy symbol over his heart. His left elbow had cobwebs, a prison tattoo after a solid three years served. Just peeking out from his jeans, was her lip print in bold red.

Zobelle pointed to the anarchist symbol. "Want to tell me again how you're not a Son?"

"Well I'm a man," Angus shrugged. "I'm obviously someone's son."

"I don't have all day to deal with you." Zobelle turned and Emily felt her blood run cold. His hand twisted her hair painfully, and pulled her head back. "Tell me what the Sons know." Angus remained quiet. "I will kill her."

"You wouldn't bloody your suit," Emily spat at him, earning herself a sharp backhand. Her cheek stung, but not nearly as bad as her pride did.

"You think your tough, girl?" Zobelle asked, pulling out a handkerchief, and wiping the saliva from his jacket. He turned to Angus. "I've done my research, but correct me if I'm wrong. Your club gives the option of burning off the ink, or having the skin flayed off, doesn't it?"

The muscle in Angus's jaw jumped, and he stonily returned his gaze to Emily. _'I'm sorry,'_ he mouthed.

She shrugged, just slightly. _'Love you,'_ she mouthed back.

"Well, I don't have a blow torch," Zobelle shrugged. "Cut that 'A' off his chest."

Breath burned in her lungs as tears streamed down her face. Her body felt chilled right to the bone as the knife broke skin and blood bubbled to the surface. She shut her eyes tightly against the horror of what went on before her, however, she could do nothing to block out the screams.

::

Tink sat with Happy in the front of the van. Chibs and Quinn were riding out front. Harry, Juice, and Tig rode behind them. Her medical supplies sat on the floor behind her seat. Every passing minute left her on edge. "Do you guys have a plan?"

"Not a good one," Happy admitted, the toothpick in his mouth nearly pulp. He spat it out the open window. "If shit goes south, you drive this thing out. Hopefully with Angus and Emily in the back."

Her palms covered her eyes, fingers splayed. "Fuck!"

"Sun is setting," he muttered. "Darkness is coming."

"At least we'll have some cover," Tink replied softly.

He liked that she had a quick mind about her. Of all the Old Ladies to be dragged along, Tink would be Happy's preference; smart, good shot, medical experience. Not that he wanted her along, because he really didn't. If shit went sideways, Tink could get hurt, killed, or imprisoned. None of which would sit well with any of the men at the table, and certainly not Quinn.

Keeping one hand on the wheel, he pushed in the vehicles lighter. Once it popped back out, he grabbed a cigarette from his kutte. "You want one?" he offered.

"No thanks. I don't really smoke. I mean, I take a puff now and then from Rane's, but I've seen one too many smoker's lungs post-mortem. Trust me, it's fucking nasty."

He inhaled deeply and blew the smoke out the window. "I'll take your word on it."

::

The little boy played on the floor, oblivious to what went on around him. Too little to understand that his grandfather had gone away, his grandmother too. Brooklyn ran her hand over RJ's head. He looked up adoringly at her. "Dada?"

Her heart clenched. He'd started asking a few hours ago. She didn't know what to say, or how to explain it. "He's gone." He seemed to understand this as 'gone, but will be back.' He returned to his toys.

The knock didn't matter, because the door opened before she had time to respond. Dax stood in the doorway. "Hey."

"Hey," she replied.

"Dada?" RJ asked, staring at the man.

The room went completely still for a few seconds. Dax came in after a moment, infringing upon Brooklyn's personal space. "What did you tell him?"

"Just that his father is gone. How am I supposed to explain this?" She hissed. "How am I to explain that some knife-wielding-psychopath came in and murdered his father? He's too little. He doesn't understand the finality of death." She sighed. "I'm surprised you're still here, you and Dad, and Angus were always close."

"Wish I were with them," Dax admitted. "I hate waiting to see what happens."

RJ interrupted with a little hand pulling on Dax's jeans. "Up?"

In a fluid movement, Dax picked up the boy, and balanced him on his hip. "However, since one intelligence officer is already going, better to have one in reserve."

Brooklyn swallowed hard. It was remarkable how at ease Dax behaved with her son, how quickly RJ had taken to the man. And what a picture they made; Dax being just dangerous looking enough to edge him out of the classically handsome, and RJ being a little adorable bundle. Tattoos and leather meets GapKids and mini converse. She tried to pull herself away from the sudden spark of attraction. "That's remarkably smart for a bunch of 'motorcycle enthusiasts.'"

Dax let out an exasperated sigh. "Do you have the impression that we're a bunch of idiots?"

"No," she replied quietly. Shame and guilt teamed up on her. She knew better, especially by implying Dax's intelligence, of all people, wasn't up to par. He remained one of the smarter people she'd ever known. "I'm just feeling a little bitchy."

He studied her a moment, before turning to sit RJ down on the bed. The easy-going child returned to driving his truck over the little bumps of the blankets. Dax looked back at Brooklyn "Are you still having your tantrum?"

"I was never having a tantrum," she denied, her dark eyes narrowing.

His hands molded to the dangerous curve of her hips, something he longed to do every time he saw her. Too many years had gone by, and he still thought of her often. "You're impossible," he breathed. "You know that?"

Her life had been a series of bad decisions, and in that moment she knew the worst one was when she walked out of his life. Moving forward in life over the past few days seemed impossible. Dead husband, small child, no real skills beyond bartending, approaching forty, and to top it off her looks were fading. She'd spent her life looking for something more, something better, only to realize she'd had it, and thrown it away. Here he was, all she wanted, the reality instead of the fantasy. She needed to make it work, pull all the strings of her life together, tie them in a pretty bow.

Her tongue darted over her lips. She couldn't think rationally past the need to welcome him into her life, somehow make him stay with the disaster she'd always been. "Kiss me," she demanded a second before her lips collided against his. There it was. The passion, the heat, the desire, those things she forgot herself capable of. They were all still there, sitting dormant, waiting for that spark, that taste of him that made her skin tingle, and common sense fly out the window. "Yes," she breathed as his lips attacked her neck. He nipped, pleasure came with pain. The hot flick of his tongue soothed, and enticed her.

Her little boy still played quietly on the bed, not paying them any mind. "Shit," she hissed, pushing him back even though she desperately wanted him. Her hands threaded through his hair, wanting to keep him close. "Not here. Not now. Not with my kid in the room."

Dax smiled a little, and then laughed. "Shit. Yeah. Sorry." Both of them smiled.

::

Kerrianne sat alone in the corner. The noise in the clubhouse had died down considerably since the men left. There were gossips, worriers, those who prayed, and those who busied their hands hoping to busy their minds. Her mother was one of the later. A fresh cup of tea sat before Kerrianne, despite the fact she hadn't drank either of the first three her mother had made.

She worried about her father, the one whom she had just started re-building a relationship with. What if she never got to really know him? She'd missed out on so much because of the fallout between him, her mother, and Jimmy. Over the years, she'd picked up little things, but even she didn't know the whole story, and frankly, didn't want to know. The past could stay in the past. Her family had finally, _finally,_ come back together. Didn't they deserve a fucking break?

Juice had gone too. She touched her lips, remembering his kiss. He'd helped her through a rough patch, she liked to think she'd helped him too. They made good friends, a good team. Something more? Dating had been forbidden by Jimmy, and frankly, she always had enough on her mind without adding a boyfriend to the list. For the first time, she was really interested in a man. Too bad he was a friend of her fathers, and thirteen years older. But did it matter? Did it really matter? If they liked each other, if they cared enough, if they wanted it badly, did either of those things matter?

The chair across from her scraped across the floor, and Fawn joined her. "Your mother keeps giving me tea."

"She does that when she's worried," Kerrianne replied.

Fawn traced a finger over the rim of the mug. "She's not the only one. I beat Ellie at pool until she got bored of the game, Isaiah is on the phone trying to save his job, and as much as I hate my father, and I really do, I… I love him too, and I'm kind of freaking out, and there is nothing to occupy my mind." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Sorry, I didn't mean for all that to come spilling out."

"It's okay," Kerrianne shrugged. "I'm worried about my da too."

"It all comes down to tonight, doesn't it?" Fawn asked. "They're going after this guy. Win or lose, this ends."

 _Let's just hope our family comes out on top,_ Kerrianne thought.

::

Happy sat behind the wheel of the idling van. Eyes were on the left side mirror, which gave him a view of the back door. He had one hand on the steering wheel, other hand rested over the gun on his thigh.

Tink crouched in the back of the van. Her medical bag opened, and lying flat. Velcro held little vials, and a syringe in place. Small elastic pockets hugged boxes of bandages, gauze, and other necessary tools. From her purse, she pulled out her own gun, checked the clip, and kept it with her as she crawled to the back doors. With one hand on the lever, she waited for Happy's warning.

Chibs, Quinn, Harry, Juice, and Tig had left their bikes in a lot down the street, and had pulled up in a hotwired junker. The five men had their kuttes on, guns out, and violence brewing within.

"Whoever can get to Angus and Emily first, get them the hell out of there," Chibs said. This was primarily a rescue mission, although one look at Quinn, and Chibs knew this was also revenge.

Quinn finished screwing on the silencer, and nodded at Chibs. "Let's go."

::

Blood trickled down his chest from the patch where he no longer had flesh. Emily's stomach churned at the sight of it. Relatively speaking, she remained unharmed. Her lip had split after a good backhand, and three of her fingernails had been ripped away from her right hand, but it was nothing in comparison. Angus's face was bloody, and swollen. There was no way he could possibly see out of his left eye.

The man with a knife waved the weapon around, clearly enjoyed his job. He'd started at the bottom of Angus's reaper tattoo. Slowly, he sliced off small bits of skin. Emily had to avert her eyes. The sight made her want to vomit. Hot tears ran down her face, and she tried to keep them from seeing the effect they had on her. She wanted to tell them everything and anything they wanted to hear to stop Angus's suffering, but couldn't. Wouldn't. She wouldn't betray the club that had become her family. Her own parents wouldn't speak to her any longer- they gave her the ultimatum. Angus and the club or them. She chose the man she loved, she chose her best friend, and the only _real_ parent's she'd ever had. She'd be damned if she'd do anything to hurt them now.

She knew the sound of a silenced shot when she heard it. Her head jerked up, expecting to find Angus dead. His chin rested against his chest, and he had so much blood on him, but she didn't see a bullet wound. Her profound relief left her dizzy. She kept her eyes glued on Angus the entire time shots were being fired.

Zobelle's anguished cry broke the spell she'd been under. She turned and looked at the man on the ground. Around him were bodies. _Holy shit_. Harry grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. "Don't look." She nodded, and he cut away her bonds. Harry had always scared the hell out of her, Indiana's godfather or not, but this one time, she could almost weep from the wave of relief she felt upon seeing him.

Another two shots were fired. A moment later another two. "I think he's dead, brother," Chibs said, touching Quinn's arm. Zobelle had half a dozen bullet wounds. Including two in the head.

Quinn tried to let go of the anger, but vengeance doesn't bring back the dead nor heal the wounds of the past.

::

Happy kept his eyes firmly on the back door. He checked the time on the van's display. They'd been inside seven minutes. A lifetime for those waiting. What if they'd ran into trouble? What if it was too late? Indiana would be crushed. He pushed the thought from his mind, needing to stay focussed.

The door burst open, and the sound of gunfire followed them out. Emily rushed out first, Quinn pushing her forward. Tink threw open the back doors to the van, and motioned her closer. "Em, come one!"

"Oh God, oh God," Emily cried climbing into the van, trembling as she laid on the cool surface, all her strength gone. "Jesus." Her hands shook from the shock and pain that came with missing nails on one side. "Shit. Fuck!"

"You injured?" Tink asked, her eyes and gun trained on the area beyond the Sons.

"Yeah, I'll live," Emily insisted.

Gunfire hit the side of the van, Emily covered her head while Tink ducked down. "What the fuck? Where is that coming from?"

Happy checked the other mirror. "Other building," he shouted. "What the fuck is going on?"

"Zobelle has friends," Emily yelled over the gunfire. "Owns this entire strip."

"Get ready to drive, Hap!" Tink shouted as she reached out to Juice and Tig, who dragged Angus up to the back of the van, while Harry, Quinn, and Chibs continued firing. The two men climbed in, dragging their fallen brother behind them. "Looks like he blacked out," Tink muttered to herself. "Wounds don't look particularly bad." She looked to Emily. "He'll be alright."

The grunt had Tink turning instinctively. "Rane!" She caught sight of Harry dragging his body behind a car for cover. "RANE!"

"Go!" Chibs shouted, waving his them on. "We'll take the other car! Go! GO!"

"Fuck!" Happy slammed the shift into drive. "Shut the fucking doors!"

Tink pulled her sling purse across her chest, and gripped her gun. "Clean it, and keep it wrapped," she ordered, pointing at Angus.

"What? Tink?" Emily's eyebrows drew down.

"And don't fucking let him drink." With that, Tink slipped out the back, and slammed the rear doors. In parting, she slammed her fist against the door, and took off running for the nearest cover.

"Did that just happen?" Tig stared at the back door.

"We have to go!" Juice shouted at Happy.

"We can't leave them!" Emily snapped.

"We have to," Tig turned to Happy. "Drive!"

"Fuck!" Happy slammed his foot down on the gas pedal, the tires spun, and the van sped out of the lot.


	58. Point of Impact

Heart hammering in her chest, Tink kept her hand fisted in her man's kutte. He'd taken a shot to the shoulder, and it bled like a bitch. When he'd fallen, he'd hit his head off the bumper of a car. The big man unconscious, Harry had dragged him behind cover, and Tink had joined them. She shook him a bit, but he didn't wake.

Chibs had made it to the ugly ass station wagon behind where Harry, Tink, and Quinn took cover. Laying over the front seats, he quickly got to work at hotwiring their escape vehicle. The gunfire didn't let up. Although he hadn't gotten a good look, he would venture the guess that they were fully automatic submachine guns. In this area, there were pretty good odds that the guns had once passed through the Sons own hands, and that annoyed him. They were likely somewhere on the chain of distribution to the guns that now had injured a brother, and would do a hell of a lot more if he couldn't get this damn car hotwired. He didn't hear his phone go off, but he felt it vibrate in his pocket. More pressing matters kept his attention, and he ignored it.

"We have to get Rane into the wagon!" Tink shouted in Harry's ear so he'd hear her.

Harry looked to his old friend, blood soaked both the REDWOOD and ORIGINAL patches. Rane wouldn't be moving on his own. A quick glance at Tink, and he knew she wouldn't be moving him either. "Fuck."

With cool eyes, and a steady hand, Tink tightened her grip on her Beretta Mini Cougar. The gun weighed in at just under two pounds, it carried ten rounds per clip and at seven inches in length it fit in most of her purses. More than that, the gun felt comfortable and familiar in her hands. Rane always insisted upon frequent target practice, so that in the event that the shit hit the fan, her aim wouldn't be one of her worries. The cool, if not a little distant way of handling things came from her days as a paramedic. She compartmentalized and remained logical. "Get him to the car. I'll be fine."

"Tink-"

"Go!" She shouted at him.

Harry grabbed Quinn under the arms and started dragging him the short distance to the other car.

Instead of going high, Tink laid on her side, ignoring the blood her shoulder became wet with. She fired under the car at legs. More blood, screams, a brief pause in gunfire as the others looked to their wounded. In the pause, she heard her phone ringing in her purse, sirens in the distance. The shooting recommenced, and she ignored the distractions.

She fired a few more shots, careful to conserve her rounds as she only had the one clip. She counted down her bullets as she fired. Six. Five. Four. Behind her, the car finally coughed, sputtered, and rumbled to life. Her cue. She fired off bullets three and two before making a dash for the vehicle, Harry had the door open for her and she dove in. "Drive!" She shouted and the old station wagon burned rubber as it sped across the lot.

Gunfire followed it, and everyone in the vehicle tucked down as far as possible. Tink, sat on the floor in the back, her hands over her head. Her husband, her injured husband laid in the back seat. Chibs driving and Harry at him to keep the damn vehicle on the road.

"Chibs! Straighten it out!" Tink shouted, her words were drowned out by the bullet that shattered the back windshield. "Oh my, God!"

Chibs pulled a hard left that nearly made Tink fall over. "Hold on!" he shouted. Gunfire ended. Sirens could be heard closing in. The scent of burnt rubber clung to the car. He braked at a red light, not wanting to draw attention to themselves by running it. "Everyone whole?"

"I'm good," Harry said, sitting by Quinn's feet. He looked Tink over, her skin bloodied. "You hit?"

"No," she replied quickly.

Not her blood, Harry's lips pressed together, his eyes narrowed. "How is he?" With no more than basic first aid knowledge, he figured it best to ask the former medical professional.

"Out." Tink's hands trembled now as she ran them over his bloody blond hair. The adrenaline spike, and terror finally caught up with her. "He knocked his head good when he fell." Her eyes fell to his shoulder where he'd been shot. "I need to stop the bleeding." She dumped her purse, the medical supplies she'd quickly shoved in there. Someone's phone started playing. With everything on their minds, no one paid any attention.

::

Emily hung up her phone, and set it aside. Another unanswered call. They're busy, it's too loud, they have their phones on silence. She made up excuses, but they couldn't lessen the slithering fear that something was horribly wrong. Her attention shifted back to Angus, his head resting on her lap rather than the cold floor of the van. The van that had transported Mac back to Teller-Morrow. A van he'd laid in, much like Angus laid now. The parallels sent a shiver down her spine, and the little hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stood on end.

Disoriented, Angus slowly regained consciousness. The quiet crying he attributed to Emily. Quiet, concentrated voices, males. His body stiffened, someone hurt his Em? The voices continued as he fought the fog. No, while he couldn't quite peg the identities, they were recognizable, friendly, brothers. The cold floor felt smooth, metal. Bumps and turns, they were driving somewhere.

After another moment he managed to open his right eye, the left swollen shut, a groan escaped his lips. To his right, Juice carefully inspected a bottle by flashlight. On his left, Tig cut squares of gauze, using that same dim light. Above him, a slow formed on Emily's face, tears streaking over her cheeks. "Hey you."

He reached up, and brushed a tear away. "Hey. What happened?"

"You passed out," Tig shook his head and smiled. "You fucking pussy."

"You did pass out," Emily glared at Tig. "Just before our rescue crew broke in. You'll be happy to know that Quinn ensured that that prick Zobelle is very, very dead."

Over his heart, where his anarchy symbol used to be felt like fire. The same burning sensation crept up his arm. "Do I still have my reaper?" Angus asked, slowly turning his head. Movement made him feel dizzy, and the world still looked fuzzy around the edges. The majority of the ink on his arm remained intact, although the dark robes disappeared under bloody gauze. "Shit, how bad does it look?"

"Nasty," Juice replied, popping the top off the pain medication. "I think two is safe."

"Chicks dig scars," Angus shot back, he looked up at Emily. "Right, babe?"

A sob caught in her chest, and the best she could do was nod.

He gratefully took the pills Juice offered. Deep, even breaths mostly took care of the nausea. "You said Quinn shot Zobelle, so where is he?" The group remained quiet for a long minute, each casting eyes to the other, wanting someone else to come up with some better explanation that what went on in their mind. Agitated, he slammed his fist down against the van floor. "What the fuck happened?" He tried to sit up, but Tig's hand on his shoulder prevented any movement.

"He, Harry, and Chibs were supposed to take another vehicle, too many guns separated them from this van." Juice ran his hand over his band of hair. Foremost, he worried about Chibs. While the two men remained on uneven ground, they were rebuilding the bridge between them. Not only that, but Juice simply cared more when it came to Chibs, Juice knew the man's family, couldn't imagine how Fiona or Kerrianne would react to him being injured or… no, he wouldn't even think of worse possibilities. "Tink jumped out when-"

"Tink was here?" Angus snapped. He fucking adored Tink. No matter what, she remained the calm island after the storm at sea. She had always provided council, a good tongue-lashing when you deserved it, a motherly figure to him. "Why the fuck did you guys bring Tink?"

"She's got medical training," Juice replied softly. "Figured one, or both of you would be injured. Now, no one is answering."

The van slowed, and the tires crunched over gravel until it came to a full stop. Happy turned in his seat, and looked at his brothers. "There are cars within walking distance. Old model, easy hotwire." He pulled a cigarette out of his kutte, needed to do something with his hands. "One of you guys drive this thing. Get them to Tara." He couldn't leave his brothers behind. He couldn't fucking do it. Brotherhood is everything. "I'm going to drive around back. See what's what."

"No way," Tig shook his head. "No fucking way, man."

"I wasn't asking," Happy snarled, the cigarette snapping in half between his fingers.

"You're driving the fucking get-away vehicle because you're still fucked up from the accident," Tig shook his head. "I'll go."

Their argument was cut off when Happy's phone started ringing. He quickly pulled it out of his kutte. "Yeah?"

 _"_ _Hap? We're good."_ The Scottish accent graced the words that brought Happy relief. _"Well, mostly. We're mostly good."_

"Mostly?"

 _"_ _Yeah, Quinn's hit,"_ Chibs replied. _"Tink has the bleeding under control, and he's awake now."_

"Meet back at the clubhouse." Happy closed his flip-phone, and let out a breath. "They're good," he said to the van.

Emily's relief was so profound she burst out laughing.

::

Abel, Thomas, and RJ sat in the sand. Their mothers sitting on the grass nearby. Brooklyn kept her eyes on her son. Rane Junior pushed the sand around with his hands, not building, not digging, just feeling. The boy had the sweetest disposition. A quiet baby gave way to an easy-going toddler. Thank God. The boy took the changes in his life easy enough. He looked up, and smiled at her.

The Quinn smile. He'd inherited it. She recognized the curve of lips, slightly more to the right, just a little uneven. Indiana had that smile. Her sister. The sister who'd been shot and now recovered in a brothel. Her father had that smile. The father who'd left to end the threat on the daughters of Sons. The man she'd admired, loved, and longed for in her youth. The lack of her father in her early years could be blamed upon her mother. Helena Leto had been a force of destruction.

Brooklyn, herself, could be the same when need be. However, she lacked the desire for drama, and had no interest in the horrible game of attention seeking that her mother had. Her mother played cards to line everything up, to bring someone closer, to bring someone to ruin- she'd done both to her father.

As a young adult, she'd sought out her father. Much of him had been built in her mind, expectations larger than life, and somehow he fit them. She'd rebelled against his wishes, pushed her limits, kept secrets, and he loved her still. She felt awful for the way she left. For the hate she'd spilled when she did. Now, more than anything, she just wanted her family back, needed them desperately.

Her husband dead. The father of her son, gone. A little sob caught in the back of her throat and she pushed it down. One day, she'd have to explain that to her son, somehow. Give him the truth, or cover the bloody reality with a nicer lie. In her younger years, she never thought much about being a parent, never really wanted kids, but now most of her attention went to her son. Now, she couldn't imagine her life without RJ.

Change was coming though. Hiding away at the clubhouse was fine for now, but eventually she'd have to move on. A fresh start. She turned to where a couple of men stood outside smoking. Dax among them. He'd made it clear he was still waiting for her. And she wanted him. But the question remained, could she risk playing by the club's rules again? She hadn't done so well with that the first time. Could she really hand over her heart? The entirety of it this time, not just some little piece she could do without.

Tara's phone started ringing and it stole Brooklyn from her thoughts. She eavesdropped on the conversation, watched Tara's face change from peace to worry. "Yeah, I'll be ready." She hung up the phone and turned to Brooklyn. "Can you watch Abel and Thomas for me?"

Brooklyn turned to the sandbox where Thomas destroyed Abel's sand castle. The boy laughed and started to build something new for his brother to ruin. "Yeah, sure. What happened?" She worried. "Are Emily and Angus going to be okay?"

The doctor frowned. "They will be." Tara nervously ran her hand over her short hair. She took a deep breath, and grabbed Brooklyn's hand. "It looks like he'll be okay, but Quinn was shot."

The air rushed from Brooklyn's lungs. "Shot," she whispered the word, and the thought of the blood made her lightheaded.

"I have to get my stuff ready," Tara informed her, squeezing her hand trying to offer comfort. Brooklyn appreciated the kindness. "Tink can't dig the bullet out with what she has, especially in the back of whatever vehicle they apparently stole."

The word 'dig' made her nauseous. "Okay, go. I've got the boys."

Tara patted her hand and then stood. "Thanks."

"Just… just take good care of my dad," she looked up at the doctor, her eyes showing her vulnerability. "Okay?"

"I will," Tara promised.


	59. Beckoning

After two hours, Tara emerged from the back room of the clubhouse. The brothers remained quiet. Chibs stood in the kitchen doorway with his wife tucked under his arm. Happy, and Tig were both occupying bar stools, Gemma standing behind the bar with her hand on the whiskey bottle. Jax stood with Minion, Cricket, and Bobby. Trinity, Kerrianne, Fawn, and Isaiah sat at a round table which had twice as many mugs as occupants. V-Lin, Filthy Phil, and Rat sat with Lowen, all of them with cards in their hands as they passed the time. Harry, and Maureen sat on the couch. A spattering of other brothers sat around as they all waited for news.

Far more tired than she expected herself to be at this time of day, Tara let out a sigh. She blamed her exhaustion on the stress of minor surgery, and being stuck under lockdown while some nut-job gunned for her. It took a moment to realize everyone stared at her, waiting for her to speak. She smiled since everything worked out okay, and a little out of embarrassment. "He's going to be fine."

A round of cheers when up in the clubhouse. Relief came in a wave that poured over all of them, and for a moment, they were one big, fucked up, happy family.

Jax abandoned the men he'd stood with, and pulled his wife in for a hard kiss. "This entire doctor thing is totally fucking sexy," he said with a grin. "I mean, I've seen you in boxy scrubs before, and even then you still look hotter than a playboy centerfold."

She loved that he didn't have some corny, overused pick-up line. Na, his corny lines were all his own, and hand tailored just for her. "Yeah? Well this entire biker thing really works for you, you just walk into the room and I get all hot and bothered." She bit her bottom lip. While he had all the smooth lines, she couldn't keep up in the arena of words. However, she did know a stadium where she could keep up. "Take me to bed."

His eyebrows jumped a little. "Really? Now?"

"Brooke has the kids, another little while won't make a difference," Tara reasoned quickly, her words quiet, and dire. "We'll be quick. Please?"

"I'm liking this lockdown crazy, you know," he admitted, his hands threading through her short, dark hair.

::

Fawn excused herself from the table, and walked up to her father. For a moment, she stood nervously behind him. Before she could figure out what to say, or how to say it, he turned, and gave her a tentative smile. "Fawnsy."

"Dad." She wrung her hands as her mind struggled to find something to say. The two remained silent for a moment, silently assessing, trying to find something undamaging to say to the other. "I'm glad you're okay," she blurted finally.

He nodded, the smile falling from his face. "Zobelle is dealt with. Some calls have already been made to the crew that had been working for him." That crew had close ties to the Grim Bastards, who the Sons were slowly working on their relationship with. An exchange of favours had gone on, but the crew who shot Quinn wouldn't be making any further moves against the Sons. "We're all good. You're all clear now, Fawn. You're safe."

Relief made her knees shaky. "Mind if I grab a seat? Might just need a drink to go with it."

He pulled out the stool a little, and she sat between her father and the silent Son who had a pile of papers set out in front of him. Happy, she recalled, although he looked anything but. She became distracted by the two fingers of whiskey Gemma placed in front of her. Fawn preferred a good shot of Tequila, but managed a tight lipped smile of thanks.

"So," Tig said softly.

Nothing more came from him, and she understood. He didn't have a clue how to talk to her, just like she didn't know how to talk to him. She took a sip of the whiskey. "I'll be heading back home tonight."

He nodded. "I figured."

"I, ah, I got new dining table. Real nice, it was a good sale," she spoke softly, gazing into her drink. "Maybe, sometime, you could come over for dinner."

She'd tossed him the lifeline, and he took it. "I'd really like that."

Their relationship wouldn't be fixed easy, but at least both of them were willing to work on it.

She turned and flashed him a quick smile, a smile that reminded him painfully of Dawn. "Me too."

::

The news that Quinn would be okay settled at least one matter in Happy's mind. The other matter, he had worked on while waiting for news. If he paid off the Visa with the Amex, and the Amex with the personal Line of Credit, he could use the Visa for… wait, no, Line of Credit was only five hundred dollars from being maxed. Shit.

He'd burned through the five grand Indiana had loaned him. His mother's treatment blew through his earnings fast. Didn't help that his work at Diosa went mostly unpaid as they struggled to find who stole the money. Despite the fact they had stopped the bleeding, Dax insisted they couldn't just get the money back. While, theoretically, he could get the money back, that large sum suddenly in Diosa's accounts would draw attention of Feds. Attention they couldn't afford. He was working on a way to slowly feed it back to Diosa, but that took time. Time Happy didn't have.

His cheque from Teller-Morrow for the hours put in at the garage helped, but with the credit card interest rates so high, he could barely keep up. The club had gotten out of drugs, and guns, and the things that were killing them, but fuck, they'd gotten rid of what brought them money too. Jax had ideas about rebooting the porn business again, but that took time.

With the bills folded, he tucked them into the inner pocket of his kutte, finished off his one beer, and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. He lit up as he walked outside. A few brothers stood around, a couple of Croweaters chatting them up. Giggles drew his attention to the playground where Abel swung in the 'big boy' swing as he called it. Brooklyn pushed Thomas lightly in the 'little boy' swing, and then moved to give Abel another big push. Balanced on her hip, RJ appeared to be sleeping.

Instead of going to his bike, as he'd intended, he walked into the gated area of the playground. "Hey."

Brooklyn stepped out of the way of the swing as Abel swung his legs trying to go even higher. "Hey," she adjusted RJ. "I saw them take Dad in a while ago. Is he okay?"

"Yeah." He blew out a line of smoke. "Tara says he'll be fine. Tink is still in with him."

The brunette nodded. "Good. That's good." She took a deep breath, and blinked away the tears that suddenly welled in her eyes. "Has anyone told Indie yet?"

"Doubt it," Happy took another drag off the cigarette. "I'm heading over to Diosa anyway. I'll let her know."

"Have you seen her recently? I mean, is she doing okay? I haven't gone to see her." Brooklyn felt like shit about it, but reasoned that under lockdown, she and her boy were safe. She didn't have a particularly close relationship with her sister, but she did care. When she walked out of Sanctuary, spewing hate, and cutting ties, she'd also done so to Indiana. She'd wanted no one associated with the Sons of Anarchy to touch her life.

"She's healing," Happy replied, his thumb absently tracing over his first smiley face tattoo.

"Good." Brooklyn adjusted RJ again, he'd been sleeping there a while, and weighed heavily in her arms. "Is she going to be coming here anytime soon?"

Happy remained quiet as he considered the question. She could remain healing at Diosa, however the threat via Zobelle had lifted. Most people would be leaving, so there would be room again at the clubhouse, and knowing her, she would want to be close to her father while he healed. If nothing else, Indiana would have to come, and see with her own eyes that her father was okay. "It's likely," he finally replied.

Her attention shifted as the gate to the little playground opened, and Dax walked in. "Thought you were heading out," Dax said, assessing Happy.

"I am," he replied, offering no farewell as he headed toward the truck.

Brooklyn smiled a little at Dax and nodded in greeting; he did the same. "He's not the friendliest man, is he?" Brooklyn hitched the little boy on her hips again, her shoulder aching.

"Nope, but he's solid," Dax replied. He and Happy were close in age, and had spent years in the same charter together. He trusted the Tacoma Killer, however, he didn't much care for any man being around Brooklyn. She didn't wear a crow, and around here, that pretty much made her free game. She hated the possessive shit, so he kept it to himself as much as he could. Seeing her adjust her son again, he shook his head. "Here," Dax plucked the little boy from her arms, and settled RJ in his own. The kid didn't even notice the exchange. "Tara's out and about. Told her I'd get her kids off your hands."

"Oh, okay. I'll get Thomas." She didn't even manage to turn around before Dax gripped the front of her jeans, fingers against her hip, sliding along the silk panties she wore underneath. He pulled her close. "Zobelle is dead. You're safe. According to Em-"

"She's okay?" Brooklyn felt a little guilty that she'd only asked about her father. For a few years, she'd tended bar with Emily at Sanctuary. She liked the woman well enough, good sense of humour and an arsenal of dirty jokes. Most of all, she liked the way Emily interacted with Indiana; the mutual loyalty and the trust. A part of her felt jealous of their connection, and longed for the kind of friendship she had never been able to forge. Her own fault, she accepted, but despite wanting it, she had refused to make any effort to obtain it.

"Yeah, went in and saw her and Angus. He looks like shit, but Em's mostly alright." Still, it had sickened him to see her injuries, and he wished the crew had more time to hurt Zobelle. A quick death was too easy for a man like him. "She said some guy was doing a little knife waving. Cut Angus pretty bad."

She swallowed hard. "Do you think it was the guy who…" She couldn't complete the sentence. The image of her husband came to the forefront of her mind, the blood soaking in the carpet made the world a little blurry.

"Hey," his hand snaked around her waist and pulled her flush against him. "You alright?"

"I'm not real good with blood, or talking about blood, or getting cut, or shot," she shuddered. "I feel sick."

"Alright, well I think it was the guy." And God, how Dax wished he could have been the one to kill the bastard. "Sounds like he had a specific proficiency with knives. Unlikely two guys in one crew has it. Most guys would just go in with a gun, and be done with it."

She shut her eyes. "Now I really feel sick."

"Sorry."

"No," she took a shallow breath. "Thank you for telling me."

He nodded, his thumb slipping under the back of her shirt, and rubbing small circles. "Now, I have to wonder, what the hell are you going to do?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, a little disoriented. The explanation of all that had happened still left her a little nauseous, however his light, careless touch had her wanting, craving something more.

"You're safe. You can have your simple, unattached life back. You can sever ties again, buy a little house for you and RJ. You could have a nine to five job, while your kid is at a sitter. Meet someone, live with them," his voice grew rough, and a little angry at the thought. "You could let them touch you, be with you." He checked quickly to ensure RJ was still sleeping. Abel, and Thomas content on the swings. His hand circled around her neck, and needing to give her something to think about, he pulled her in for a hot, demanding, and bordering on brutal kiss.

Her toes curled, and her knees weakened. Ridiculous. That only happens in romance novels, not real life! However, there was no denying that her hands clenched, fisting the fabric of his shirt, twisting it as she pulled him closer. When his lips left hers, she nearly whimpered.

That sinful mouth skimmed along her jawline, and up to her ear. "Or you can fucking stay this time." With that, he stepped away, there were children present after all. "Abel, come on, your mom wants you."

"'Kay," Abel dropped his feet, they brushed in the sand slowing him until he stopped completely and hopped off.

Dax turned to Brooklyn, who remained rooted to the spot. Her hair a little windblown from being outside for so long, her eyes slightly unfocussed, her breath uneven. He smirked. "You going to grab Thomas?"

"Huh? Oh. Yes." Embarrassment coloured her cheeks. He'd kissed her into a stupor. Her brain cells had certainly died happy. She carefully pulled Thomas from the small swing and he rested his head on her shoulder, a sleepy smile on his face. Tara had entrusted her with her boys, it felt strange, but good that she'd found friendship in the club. She worried over her family who'd been injured, but this time that fear didn't send her running away. She wanted to stay, to support. And Dax, she didn't think she could walk away again. Still, she wouldn't make any rash decisions- after all, look where that got her last time.

"Brooke, can we have cookies?" Abel asked as they walked toward the clubhouse.

"You're cookie obsessed," she smiled, a little absentmindedly. Dax walked a few steps ahead, and once again, seeing him with her son delighted her. "You'll have to ask your mom."

He sighed dramatically. "But she says not before dinner."

She ran her hand over the boy's head affectionately. "Sorry, kiddo." In that moment, a boy in her arms, another under hand, and one using Dax's shoulder for a pillow, she felt the desire for another child, a big family.

Stupid dead brain cells leaving her with silly little fantasies.

::

Happy found Indiana standing by the window in her room at Diosa. She turned when he entered. Pretty wisp of a thing, her thin build making her look delicate, however he knew the strength and muscle that was the reality. Her lips slightly parted, her tongue darting out to wet them. Those blue eyes wide and worried. He gave her a little grin, and he watched the tension drain from her shoulders. "It's done," she said softly, her hands reaching back, gripping the window sill.

"It's done," he agreed, reaching back to the door, slowly sliding the lock into place.

In the silence of the room she heard the ' _click_.' She swallowed hard. Thinking past her own sudden burst of lust, she had to know about Emily and Angus. "Are they hurt?"

"Minor injuries," he muttered. Dark eyes drank in her image. Long flaxen hair, bangs which she blew impatiently out of her eyes. The light green tank top showed off the freckles on her shoulders. Baby blue bra straps told him she still didn't coordinate. The grey sweatpants hung low on her hips, and obscured her wonderful, strong legs. Shame. He wouldn't let that stand for long. He'd had a long day, a stressful one. Typically by now, he would have grabbed a Croweater, and would have found release one way or another. Instead, his Hellcat remained stuck on his mind, and he didn't want a substitute.

"Dad and Tink, they're good, right?" she rushed as he slowly stepped toward her. The dark intensity of his eyes, kept her pinned to the spot. In that moment, he was the predator, and she was the prey.

The question gave him pause. "Tink's okay," he said softly. Her eyes became wary, and he couldn't lie to her, not even by omission. "Quinn will be. Tara had to pull a bullet from his shoulder."

She leaned back against the window sill, needing it to help keep her upright. "Oh," the word left in a rush of air.

"He's going to be just fine," he promised.

No longer the predator, she noted, he stepped forward. Almost tenderly, he brushed his hand along her cheek, his fingers warm and calloused, his rings cool and smooth. Enjoying the sensation, the comfort, she closed her eyes and melted into his touch. The scent of him soothed her tattered nerves.

"And you," she whispered, her eyes slowly opening and looking up at him. Her hand skimmed along his skull, still bruised from the accident. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," he answered sharply. She raised a brow, and he huffed out a breath. "Sick of being sidelined."

She understood the feeling, and nodded. Her hand covered his, the one still lingering on her face, holding it there. She turned a little, pressing a kiss into the slightly scarred wrist. He'd fought to escape the confines of the cuffs Irving's men had put him in, and she doubted the skin would ever fully heal. Her tongue traced over the slightly raised line, and his body pressed against hers. Delicious heat, hard muscle, and that was definitely not his phone poking into her hip.

She'd worried that he'd back out of this by now. Cut ties with her. Leave her standing, wanting, needing. Go back to the club, drink too much, and fuck someone else. "Are you sure you want me?" she asked shyly, terrified of the answer, and butterflies seemed too nice for what currently went on in her stomach.

"Yes," he growled, hating he'd been the one to make her doubt. It took him seven years to fully realize his error, and that was more than enough time wasted. His thumb ran over her cheek as his hand slipped back, threading through her silky hair. He wondered if his memory of her stood up to the real thing. His head dipped, capturing her lips, cutting off her surprised gasp. She tasted like caramel and destruction. His glorious destruction.

Whatever attempt at slow, and easy were thrown out the window. Her wounds were still healing, and he didn't want to hamper with that, but his hands darted to the hem of her shirt. In one quick pull he stripped her of it, and tossed the garment over his shoulder. Naturally, his eyes immediately went to her little tits, pushed up, and cupped by the baby blue bra with little white lace frills. Fuck, even the pink marks of fading wounds twisted him up. That starburst scar below her breast where she'd basically taken a bullet for him, the scar just above her breast where Tink had to stab his own knife into her to help her breathe, too fucking sexy.

The growl at the back of his throat as his eyes darkened made her lose her breath. No one looked at her with such blatant desire. Suddenly, his hands pushed down the band of the sweatpants, and they pooled around her ankles. "Oh," she said, a little shocked as she looked down.

He smirked. The matching baby blue panties had two strips of white lace that guided his eyes between her legs. Like he needed the directions. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her, she stepped out of her pants, and into him. Big blue eyes stared up at him, her tongue darting between her lips, leaving them slick. "Fuck," he groaned unable to keep from tasting her again.

Guiding her to the bed, his lips never left hers. The hunger clawed at him. Intense, insatiable hunger. He hadn't gotten over her, every fuck since that day in Sanctuary had been compared to her, and never held a candle to the blaze she'd set off within him. She was a cure to some aliment he never knew he had, one that left him living a half-life, only with her did he know what could be.

Her legs hit the bed, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down as she let herself fall. An arm banded around her, the other anchored in her hair. Their bodies pressed together, her legs wrapped around him, welcoming, pulling him home. His denim-clad erection stroked against her, and her back arched, a gasp escaping her lips.

With slow precision his hips rocked, stroking the flames within her. Hands were everywhere, pulling her hair, over her shoulder, curving under her breast, smoothing over her thigh, down to her knee. She couldn't keep up with the sensations, there was too much to feel, too much building within her. His lips were on her neck, her collarbone, the scar above her breast, the tongue flicking over what should have hurt and what only further aroused.

"Hap," she gasped. The shock and awe at what built shook her. No one had this kind of power over her, no man had the ability to captivate her like this. He kept her grounded, possessed her body while her senses drowned in him. Her mind, obsessed, stayed firmly locked on his every touch, the scent of him, the taste of him. More. She wanted more. Needed more.

Nails trailed down the back of his neck, and it sent a shiver down his spine. He stared at her face for a second, her eyes wide in surprise. Short, choppy breaths. The little whine escaped her even though she'd bit down on her bottom lip. He wanted to watch her fall apart. His forehead bowed to hers, their eyes remained locked, and his hips continued that same rhythmic pace.

Her eyes turned away before she did. "I-I," she stuttered, panting, unable to complete her sentence.

His hand slipped under her bra, kneaded her breast, and suddenly her heels dug into his thighs with the kind of force that would likely leave a bruise. Liking it rough, he didn't complain in the least. She gasped, wide eyes locking back on his, her back arching against him. A mangled cry of what bore resemblance to his name had him shooting off in his pants like some fucking teenager. Her nails dragged down his arms, before her fingers tightened around his wrists.

She sobbed with the intense pleasure that swamped her body. Too much, there was too much pleasure, even the back of her head tingled like even her fucking hair follicles were jumping aboard this awesome ride. She tried to get enough air into her lungs and the entire interlude left her feeling lightheaded. "Happy," she managed his name between breaths. "I… you… Holy shit."

The crushing grip on his wrists finally relented and she flexed her hands. He pushed himself up and stood between her legs. Once, he'd called her a 'wet dream' he hadn't exaggerated. Hair a fucking mess, her neck and collarbone a little red since he had a days' worth of stubble. He'd pulled down her bra only on one side, her rosy nipple just begged for attention. His eyes continued downward over her defined core, the little dip of her bellybutton, which on anyone else he couldn't care less, but hers twisted him up. The strips of white lace on her panties guided his eyes and he smirked with pure male-satisfaction at the darker area of wet silk. Suddenly his dick was interested in round two. He looked up at her face and caught the look of worry that suddenly changed the mood in the room. His hand covered her knee. "I ain't going anywhere this time, Hellcat."

She smiled a little, nervous and unsure. "Good."

Briefly, he wondered how long it would take, how many more times would she give him that look before she believed him.

She bit on the side of her thumb as she stared up at him. "How did you…" she trailed off and averted her gaze somewhere over his shoulder.

"What?"

"I can't. I mean, I guess I can, but I've never…" the blush rose from her breasts, up her neck and coloured her face.

Intrigued, he raised an eyebrow. "Never what?"

She groaned and covered her face with her hands. Apparently Post-Orgasm Indie could be prone to brief lapse of judgement leading to honesty, although it didn't hold a candle to the horrifically honest Drunk Indie. "Nothing, forget I said anything."

Once again, he laid between her legs, grabbed her arms and pinned them to her sides. Her body jerked once, and tried to pull away. This time, he purposely ground his hips against her sex, and her hands clenched into fists as her mouth created a pretty little 'o'. "Tell me," he demanded.

"I've just never been able to… stimulation like that… I just…" She huffed out a breath, annoyed and embarrassed. "I've never gotten off like that."

"By someone dry humping you?" he said, nearing laughter.

She snorted, rolled her eyes, and then laughed. "No, that's not what I meant, but also no as an answer." She squirmed a little. "Let me up?" He shifted, pulling her upright, and he sat down on the bed beside her. "I have a really… um… this is way easier when I'm drunk."

His hand ran up her back and tangled in her hair, rubbing little circles. "You can talk to me," he muttered, words he never thought he'd say. Talking had never been a priority with women. But then, those women weren't Indiana, and she made him do all kinds of things he'd never think to do, or have any desire to do before.

A deep breath helped calm her. She wanted this thing with Happy to work, to be real, not just great sex. That meant, she would have to talk to him. Tell him the things she hadn't told Mac. Trust in him, as she always had. Some of the things, he already knew. Things were different now, different with Happy than they had been with Mac. With Mac, she'd kept secrets, unable to get them past her lips, not because he wouldn't be understanding, not because he'd stop loving her, but simply because she wanted to keep her secrets close. With Happy, she wanted to give herself over, completely, secrets and all.

"I'm not really good with… sex." She cleared her throat after her voice pitched the word. He smirked, and she elbowed him. "This isn't easy for me."

"I know." His hand left her hair and warmed her shoulder as he pulled her closer.

Like ripping off a Band-Aid, she thought, trying to force the words past her lips. "My head just gets caught up in past shit, and it fucks me up. I started crying once, mid-sex session with Mac. Freaked him out so bad he wouldn't touch me for a month. Eventually, I just learned to shut it all out, everything," she shrugged a little. "It makes for a pretty pathetic sex life when you don't really feel anything but anxiety and obligation." Teeth captured her bottom lip as she fought to keep her sense of nonchalance about the situation.

He didn't like it. The unhappiness in her voice. Her hitched breath, hands balling into fists, a struggle for control. He pulled her hair a little, and she turned to him with those haunted eyes. "Do you feel it with me?"

Slowly, she shook her head though her eyes stayed locked on his. "You own me completely," she whispered. "There isn't room for a memory." Sexual tension hung heavy in the room, neither blinked nor looked away. "I'm going to shower," she said, her words slow, her voice husky. "Join me?"

He nodded, just once. He watched her stand, not breaking eye contact, she walked backwards, absent-mindedly adjusting her bra, covering her breast once more. He wanted it off. Now. She held out a hand to him, fingers curving into her palm, beckoning him. And like a man under a spell, he followed.


	60. Balancing Act

Happy stood in the doorway that connected bedroom to the bathroom, watching Indiana remove her bra. Her eyes caught his in the mirror, and for a second she paused before letting the garment fall to the floor. The bare expanse of her back was every bit as tantalizing as the mirror's view of the front of her. A moment later, she slowly stripped her panties off, her legs remaining perfectly straight as she practically folded in half. His teeth clenched together as she stood back up, completely naked. She cast a smile over her shoulder that told him she knew exactly what she was doing, and stepped into the glass enclosed shower. Shutting the bathroom door behind himself, he stripped down himself, and turned to look at her through the glass. The water had to be hot as it already fogged up a good portion of the glass, obscuring her figure.

Sweetbutts would drop to their knees or spread their legs on command. They offered no chase, no build up, no anticipation. Indiana, however, had been the unattainable, the untouchable. He'd sampled the forbidden fruit, cursing himself for it over the past seven years. She infected his system, drew him in, and he desperately wanted to own her completely. He pulled open the glass door, and stepped in behind her.

Water cascaded over her shoulder, and trailed down over her back. She turned around, her hair darkening as it became wet. "You going to join me, or watch me?" she asked, teasingly.

"A bit of both," he replied with the beginnings of a smirk. She bit her bottom lip, and turned. With the shampoo bottle in hand, she switched him sides.

"Smart business," she said, mostly to herself as she poured the shampoo into her hand. "The shower size," she continued when she caught his raised eyebrow. "Considering Diosa's business is… _companionship_ , the shower being just enough room for two, but still being a little small is smart. They could have had something luxurious, grand in size, but then there wouldn't be as much of an excuse to touch one another."

The immense heat of the falling water worked out the tightness in his shoulders that he'd been feeling since the accident. He rotated his shoulders as her fingers massaged her head, suds building until they slid off her hair, and curved over her breasts. She leaned against him, proving her earlier point as her hand braced herself on his chest. She crouched down, her hand sliding down as she did, to check out the display of body washes on the ledge behind him. He groaned, her hand on his hip.

After sniffing a couple of the bottles, she grabbed two, and stood back up with a light green loofa in hand. "They have the good shit here. Might as well use it before I leave, right?"

He didn't follow. "The good shit?"

"Soaps," she said, as if it should be obvious. Waving the one for him she smiled. "I know the full sized bottle of this goes for like thirty bucks, I classify that as the good shit. Now, it says it's not only detoxifying, but warms and relaxes muscles and increases circulation." With one finger she made a circular motion. "Turn around."

He did as she asked, the water beating down on his chest. The 'pop' of the body wash's lid had him anticipating her hands rubbing him down, his shoulders tensed as he waited. The soft material started at the back of his neck, and made its way down. "What the hell is that thing?" he muttered.

"What's what?" she asked, a little distracted by the task at hand.

"The sponge thing," he specified.

"The loofa?" She giggled. "I shouldn't even be surprised you don't know what it's called. Actually, it's kind of reassuring."

Her hands kept moving, and he needed to distract himself before he end this all too soon. "How so?"

"Well, you'd never buy one for yourself. You'd deem this impractical, and girly," she said, her hands gently working circles on his back. "And the fact that you don't know what it is tells me that you haven't had a steady woman in your life." She remained quiet for a few seconds before adding; "That is petty of me."

He turned without warning and the loofa curved over his hip, and she quickly averted her gaze. "You a little possessive?"

Her eyes turned up to meet his. "I don't like the idea of sharing you," she whispered.

His fingers dug into her jaw. "The feeling is mutual."

And the slow, and easy gave away. He wanted to sip, to sample, instead he rushed her. Feasted upon her lips, her breasts, trailing lower, wanting to taste her. Dragging her leg over his shoulder gave him better access, and forced her to use the glass wall for balance. One quick lick, and she trembled, rose up on her toes, precariously balanced. "Jesus Christ!"

He smirked. "Not quite."

"Egotistical-" the rest of her insult died on the tip of her tongue when his mouth assaulted her once again. It didn't feel quite real, like some kind of dream sequence she'd soon wake up from. Happy Lowman, on his knees, and that talented mouth of his just as efficient as the man himself.

Her nails ran over his head, pulling him closer even as she struggled to keep balanced on one foot. For as long as he'd lived, he'd never felt a need like this. Not even that night at Sanctuary when he'd gotten drunk, scared off her date, and fucked her in the back room. He pushed her leg off his shoulder, and stood, licking her body all the way up.

And she was on him. Her mouth battling his, arms wrapped around his neck. She'd even jumped up, and wrapped her legs around his waist. It wasn't without pain, they were both still healing, but he pressed her against the stone wall, and found her tentative tongue flicking against his. As much as it killed him, he pulled back for a second. "Please tell me you're on the fucking pill."

"Yeah, but, don't you dare," she said quickly, her legs untangling from his back and standing upright on her own.

A growl emitted from him. "You bein' a fucking cock tease?"

"Do you know what the statistical odds of pregnancy are with birth control?" she shot back.

"Same as a condom right?" he answered, sensing that until the matter was settled, he wouldn't be getting inside her. "And since I don't have any bitches looking to me for child support, I'd say pretty good."

Her eyes narrowed. She didn't like the idea of him being with likely hundreds of women before her, and she especially didn't like it being brought up when they were both naked. "Yes, the statistics would be on our side, but… one in a hundred still end up pregnant," she said sternly. "I'm not being that statistic. I'm not having kids. So, wrap it up."

He gestured to his naked self. "I don't have one on me. I think there is one in my kutte," he muttered, making a move for the door, only to be stopped by Indiana.

"No way!" she shrieked. "That's practically like having it in your wallet. You can't do that."

"Never been a problem before," he snapped back.

"Yeah, you've been fucking Sweetbutts before," she said with a roll of her eyes. She didn't think much of the airheads. "Heat, friction, bending, over time it can cause the condom to deteriorate and microscopic holes can form." She was surprised to find a smile on his face. "What?"

"You're even hot when you're lecturing," he said, even though it annoyed him that he thought so. He could be balls deep in that pussy of hers, but no, she was sprouting facts, and he couldn't even find it in himself to get good and angry over it. "And we're in a fucking brothel. I think there are other condoms."

::

She wrapped the towel around her body while Happy finished rinsing off. He'd teased her, and left her on the edge. _'Now you know how I feel, Hellcat.'_ Even thinking of the words he'd whispered in her ear sent a shiver down her spine. Before leaving the bathroom, she grabbed his clothes, figuring she could find a bag to put them in.

In the bedroom, she grabbed her phone, trying to distract herself from the fact that she'd just denied Happy fucking Lowman. And why had she? The fear of pregnancy, for sure. Calling someone in to bring them a condom wasn't something either of them really wanted. Gossip moved fast, and while Lyla knew their situation, neither wanted it making it back to Quinn before Indiana had a chance to talk to him. Besides, it would have been fucking awkward all around.

You're scared, she admitted to herself. Scared he'd see the depths of her feelings, and that they would make him back off, and leave her again. Scared of letting herself be intimate with him, of finding out that ghosts would come back to find her, even in his arms. She put his stuff on the floor, and grabbed her phone from the night stand. After sending a text to Lyla, she sorted through the second round picks from Harry, and clearly, a woman with better taste than he.

She set a loose light blue t-shirt, and a pair of low rise jeans aside. Biting her lip, she struggled to think past the worries, and doubts. The last thing she wanted was to be some kind of passing phase for him. Something a little different from the Sweetbutts, but every bit as casual, and transient. She'd done it once, and it had fucking hurt. She wanted to keep something in reserve, frightened to give herself like that again.

The soft knocks at the door drew her out of her mind. Holding the towel tightly, she crossed the room, and opened the door just a little. Lyla had a pair of pants, shirt, and boxer briefs. "Hope I got the right size, I'm usually pretty good at guessing," she whispered, and gave Indiana a wink.

"Thank you, I appreciate it," Indiana replied, taking the clothes for Happy. "And I don't just mean for this, for everything." Lyla had brought her food, kept her in stock with caramel candies from her desk, and on breaks, came and chatted for a few minutes which broke up the tedium of being stuck in a room. "You're a good friend."

Lyla lit up when she smiled. "Well, you can pay it forward, one day I want the full story on this," her hand waved between Indiana and the clothes. "I bet it's a good one."

A tight lipped smile, and a shrug. "We'll see."

Lyla's smile faltered. "You okay?"

It shouldn't be a question. She should be lit up with the kind of excitement that would put the Fourth of July to shame! She heard the shower turn off, and in that bathroom was Happy Lowman. A man she'd spent half her life pining over. Instead of being in there with him, begging for release, she had left them both on the ledge with no immediate promise for satisfaction. Sudden fury clawed its way up. "Yeah," Indiana bit back. "I'm just letting old shit mess me up. Like I always do." She gave her head a shake. "Thanks again." Lyla cast her a sad smile, and shut the door.

She put the new clothes for Happy down on the bed. Intending to put his kutte with the new outfit, she picked it up, but folded legal sized papers fell out. "Shit," she muttered to herself. Tossing the kutte on the bed, she knelt down, and picked up the papers. The hospital seal caught her attention, and unable to keep her curiosity at bay, she opened it.

The treatments listed, the amounts owed, the letter demanding payment, the overdue Visa bill, the maxed out Amex. "Jesus," she whispered, quickly adding up the total debt. The door opened, and she jumped. Guilty eyes looked up at Happy. Caught red handed.

"The fuck are you doing?" he snapped angrily as he stormed across the room. A man should not look so dangerous with a plush white towel around his waist.

"They fell out of your kutte. I didn't mean to…"

"To look?" he snarled, yanking the papers from her hands. "You have them all open! They sure as shit didn't fall out like this!"

"I'm sorry," she whispered, looking down at the ground, unable to keep staring up at the dangerous look in his eyes. "I know things have been tight-"

"I can handle my business."

"Didn't say you couldn't." She slowly stood up, needing not to feel so small, sitting at his feet. "But I can help."

His fingers digging into her jaw forced her to look at him. "You left me to jerk off in the shower, I doubt you can do much for me."

Embarrassed and miserable, she bit down on her bottom lip telling herself not to cry. "You're looking at debt. I'm a mathematician. This I can definitely help you with."

"Stay out of it." He released her with a slight push. With the towel still around his waist, he crossed the room, and took his cigarettes from his jeans. The inability to take care of his own business left him feeling slightly emasculated. It gnawed, and festered, and made him lash out. He reminded himself of Indiana's much softer spirit, her innate kindness, and felt like shit for jumping down her throat when she only wanted to help. Only after lighting up did he turn to her again. "You good?"

"Yeah," she whispered roughly.

He stared, and found tears in her eyes. After cursing under his breath, he extended an arm. "Come here." Tucking herself under his arm, she allowed herself to be held, and it surprised him. He'd been a dick, and she just forgave him for it. "Sorry I snapped," he muttered into her hair.

"I'm sorry I looked," she whispered back. She shook her head, and looked up at him. "That's a lie. I'm not. I like your mom. I want to help. I wish you'd let me help. I'm at the very least your friend."

He took a deep drag, and quickly huffed out a breath of smoke. "I said leave it."

"You're so fucking stubborn," she muttered. For a minute, she just allowed herself to enjoy the hard edges of him, the warmth of his body, the scent of the sharp, no-nonsense, masculine body wash with that hint of Happy underneath. "Since we're apologizing, I'm sorry about dragging you into the shower and then just… not following through."

He pulled her over to the window, keeping her tucked safely under his arm, so that he could flick the ashes outside. "You hardly dragged me."

Her hand clenched, scratching lightly over his hip. "I don't know if I can be what you want me to be, Hap," she admitted in a light whisper.

His arm tightened around her. "You already are."

She smiled up at him. That was likely the most romantic thing he would ever day. She found herself getting a little dewy eyed. "You like wrecks."

He took a deep drag off the cigarette, the beginnings of a smile playing on the corners of his lips. "I like DIY projects."

She snorted when she tried to contain her laughter. "Jesus Christ, Hap. I'm not some broken down motorcycle."

"Same principle." His eyes zeroed in on her chewing on her bottom lip. "I find something I want. I make it work."

She swallowed hard. "I might not be worth it."

He gave her towel a yank and it fell around her feet. Ignoring her surprised gasp, he took a step back to properly admire her form. "You will be."

Her eyes narrowed, but a smile formed anyway. "Perve."


	61. In This Together

On the way to the clubhouse, Indiana had prepped what she wanted to say to her father. She would make him see reason. They were close, and never let anything drive a wedge in their bond. They didn't always agree, but they always found a middle ground, or simply ignored what they didn't like. While she knew that her father wouldn't be pleased about her seeing Happy in a 'romantic' fashion, he'd give way to keep the peace.

With how to handle her father all planned out by the time they hit the 'Welcome to Charming' sign, Indiana turned her attention on the pressing matter of Happy's finances. Sure, he didn't want to talk about them, didn't want her help, but as a mathematician she knew she could be of assistance. Maybe she could find a way to help without him even knowing it.

She could get the money. Her thumb ran over her lip, and she stared blankly out the window, her mind working odds, and what her accounts held. She'd need help, and she knew just the woman for the job. It could work, but the plan needed to be put in motion starting now.

"Oh," she turned to him. "I should tell you, now that the lockdown is over, Em's bachelorette party is overdue. I'm going to see how soon I can do it." She bit down on her lower lip. "That depends on how Angus is," she muttered, mostly to herself. "She wouldn't just leave him." Without Emily, the odds of her success lowered significantly. "I think we girls could really use a bit of fun."

His grip on the wheel tightened. "Where?"

"Las Vegas," Indiana replied. "There are a couple of shows she wants to see. Likely a few strip-clubs." She shrugged. "Maybe hit the slots. Spoil ourselves with room service."

"How long?"

"Two or three days."

He didn't like it, but at least Vegas was far from the shitstorm Charming had been. Maybe the change of scenery would do both of the girls some good. Besides, he had been meaning to take the time to go and see his mother in Bakersfield, talk to the doctors. "I'll call the charter there," he told her, pulling into Teller-Morrow. "Make sure nothing big is going down."

She smiled. "I'd appreciate it."

Side by side, they walked toward the clubhouse. He went to make some calls, and she went down the hallway, first to Emily and Angus's room. She knocked and a few seconds later the door opened. Emily's eyes widened, and a big smile spread over her face. "Indie!" she shrieked. The woman launched herself into her best friend's arms with enough force to knock Indiana back a step. "Oh, shit, sorry," Emily immediately pulled back and winced seeing the pain on her friend's face. "Sorry."

Indiana nodded. "Good to see you too."

Emily grabbed Indiana's hand and pulled her inside the room. Kicking the door shut, the noise level died down. "How are you?"

"I'm healing fine. Just a little sore now and then," Indiana replied. "And that's a question I should be asking you."

"I'm not feeling the love," Angus cut in. Propped up on pillows, he shot her a smile.

"And I should ask you how you are too," Indiana rolled her eyes, but walked over to the bed and kissed his temple. She sat down next to him. "You doin' alright?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, stings like a bitch, but I'm fine."

"But he'll milk it for everything it's worth." Emily shook her head, and laughed, and then cried.

Indiana stared at her for a moment, as the quiet cries became all out sobs. She turned to Angus who sighed. "She keeps crying," he whispered. "I don't know what to do."

Indiana stood and pulled her friend into a tight hug. "It's going to be fine, Em. You're both just fine." She murmured whatever comforts came to mind, holding her friend until the tears ended. "Looks like you could use a bit of time away from all this."

"I can't go."

"But your bachelorette party. It needs to happen."

"The wedding has to be pushed back, I don't even know at this point when we'll be getting married." Emily sniffled. "I can't leave Angus right now. He's injured."

"I'm fine," Angus said, sitting up. "I'm sore, I'm not going to drop dead. You should go."

"But-"

"No buts," Angus shook his head. "You should go, and have some fun. You both should. I think Indie could use it too, don't you?"

Emily's eyes narrowed. "That's playing dirty."

He smirked, but kept the comment to himself. "Think on it, babe."

"Male strippers, Em," Indiana said, a mischievous grin on her face. "Think on it. I have to go see dad now. I have to tell him something he's not going to be too happy about."

Emily's brow furrowed. "Tell him what?"

Indiana grabbed her friend, and turned slightly away from Angus. "I'm maybe-kinda-sorta with Hap," she whispered.

"OH MY GOD!" Emily shouted. "Seriously?"

"What? What is it?" Angus demanded.

"Nothing," Emily replied with a huge smile. "You'll find out later." She turned back to Indiana. "We need serious girl time."

"I know, in Vegas," Indiana said, eyes narrowing.

Emily's excitement lowered a notch. "What is it you need in Vegas?"

"All I need right now is to know I can count on you to come with me."

Emily nodded, their hands clasped in the solidarity they'd held for years. "Of course. Vegas it is."

"Thanks. I got to talk to Dad. I'll fill you later." She quietly shut the door to Emily and Angus's room. Seeing the bruises, the bandages on her friends hurt, and keeping herself focused on the fact that they were okay was more difficult that she had anticipated. She'd grown up in a world of violence, and yet, it never stopped affecting her. They would be okay, she reminded herself. They would be just fine.

By the time she reached the end of the hallway, her nerves were raw. She didn't like arguing with her father, and she especially didn't like to see him injured. From her side of the door, she heard Tink's voice, her small laugh. It brought Indiana relief. If Tink could laugh, things were just fine. She knocked, and smiled when Tink opened the door.

"Hey, Sweetie," Tink smiled. "Get in here."

Indiana pulled up another chair to her father's bedside. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Quinn replied. "Tink's the only reason I'm not up and about."

Indiana rolled her eyes. "You did get shot."

"Barely."

"You were unconscious." Tink glared at him.

"Because I hit my head, because the bullet knocked me off balance." Quinn huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm fine now."

Tink crossed her arms over her chest, and leaned back in her chair. "You likely have a concussion."

Quinn smirked. "You just want to keep me in bed all day."

"Daughter, sitting right here," Indiana muttered.

"Right." Quinn laughed. "And it's good to see you, Little Anarchist." Indiana managed a tight-lipped smile, and a nod. "Oh, shit," Quinn muttered. "What is it?"

"What?" Indiana's eyebrows furrowed.

"You have that look, the nervous one." He eyed her suspiciously. "You get it before asking me something that you think I'll object to."

She straightened a little in her chair. "I'm not asking."

"That's even worse," he muttered. Tink swatted his leg, and shot him a dirty look. "Well, what is it?"

She thought of everything she'd planned to say on the way over. "I am old enough, and wise enough to make decisions for myself. I want you to understand I'm not asking for your permission, although I would appreciate if you accepted that this is what I want for myself."

"Oh, Christ," he muttered, looking up at the ceiling. "I'm getting flashbacks of when you told me you were seeing Mac. This is about a man, isn't it? It's Happy, isn't it?"

The rest of her speech seemed redundant. "I love him."

He frowned. "Do you really? He's distant, quiet, way too old for you-"

"Dad, there are fifteen years between me and Hap." A little smirk played upon her lips. "And how many years are between you and Tink?"

Much to Quinn's annoyance, Tink burst out laughing. "Fifteen years," he muttered.

"And you're both perfectly happy," Indiana said. "And yes, Happy is a quiet man, and maybe a little distant, but it's who he is, and I love him for it."

"You know what he does-"

"And what he's done for me." She rested her elbows on her knees. "I know."

"He's not the kind of man to settle down with one woman, and have a little house, and kids running around."

She sighed. "Dad, I know. That's okay too."

He huffed out a breath. "No it isn't."

A part of her understood, this was her father, a man who wanted the absolute best for her, a man who thought no one would be good enough for his baby girl. She loved him for it, for wanting her to have all the best, but she needed him to understand that they had a difference of opinion when it came to what the 'best' was. "I say it is, and it's my life," Indiana said, trying to remain calm. "I don't want to argue with you dad, but I'm not here asking for permission."

"Well…" Floundering, he looked for anything that might change her mind, or make her think further on the decision. "Where will you live?"

"In Charming," Indiana replied. "Nero's offered me a job at Diosa. Working finances," she continued when she saw the look of anger cross her father's face. "A legitimate accounting job. I'm considering it."

"What about your place in Red Willow?"

She bit her bottom lip, and shrugged. "I'll buy out of my lease after I go there, pack up everything."

Quinn frowned. "This is all happening pretty fast. You just lost Mac. You're just giving up your life and throwing yourself into a relationship. You're usually so logical, thoughtful. This is out of the blue. You're making a decision in grief-"

"Dad, stop. I lost Mac, but- fuck- I didn't love him like this. He was comfortable, and he was safe, and he was 'good enough.'" She ran her hand through her hair, the shame a hard pill to swallow. "Things are different with Happy, they might not be perfect, but it's what I want."

His lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at her. "Are you really sure?"

She smiled. "No one is ever sure, Dad. But I am sure I want to risk it."

"Well, I guess I don't have to give permission, since you're not asking," he grumbled.

"He's your club brother. You're my father. I don't want you taking sides, or getting involved. Whatever happens between me and Hap, that's our business."

"I'll always be on your side."

She smiled. "I know. But don't get involved."

Quinn sent a long-suffering sigh to his wife. "Can you believe this shit?"

"I know, she sounds so wise." Tink giggled. "It's like she knows that given the chance, you'd punch him in the face."

::

Happy had a cigarette lit, but the ash had grown as he ignored it in his hand, it dangled precariously over the bar top. While he wanted to think about his financial situation, instead, he kept listening for Indiana's footsteps, not that he could hear much of anything over the chatter, and music.

He sat at the bar, facing the hallway, waiting. It didn't take as long as he expected for Indiana to come back. Following behind her was Quinn and Tink. Shit. He stubbed out his cigarette and stood when they came over. He tried to keep his hands loose, even as they wanted to ball into pre-emptive fists. Indiana gave him a reassuring smile which had some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

Quinn extended his hand. "Brother." Surprised, Happy stared at the offering a second before he took it. "You better take care of her."

"Dad," Indiana snapped.

"What?" Quinn shrugged. "Just a friendly warning."

She rolled her eyes. "I think this calls for a drink."

::

On the top of the list of 'really dumb things,' Indiana figured she should write 'this calls for a drink.' She'd followed the line of thought that a little alcohol might make everyone a little more friendly, a little more at ease. That was all she had wanted. Maybe it did work, because Quinn and Happy didn't get into a fist fight, and she had to call that a win. However, drinking was an activity she frowned upon, mostly because she had a very difficult time finding the balance between 'fun relaxed few-drinks Indie,' and 'horrifically honesty drunk Indie.' Three didn't really make her all that tipsy, and she always figured four was safe. Sometimes it was. Other times it was a no stops alcohol train to Drunkville.

This was one of _those_ times.

"Happy, Happy, flappy, crappy, sappy, mappy, oh my god, a map, let's go on an adventure." Currently, she was staring at his ass. Not that she had much of a choice since after she'd buddied up to Gemma and pointed out that her grey roots were showing, he'd decided to get her the fuck out of harm's way. Great guy, her Happy. And by getting her out of harm's way, he simply tossed her over his shoulder, and walked out of the clubhouse. "We can take the truck. I can drive. I'm good, I'm totally good."

"You're not even in the vicinity of good," he snarled back, and she watched the pretty ashes of his cigarette fall, red embers drying as they hit the ground.

She shoved her hands into the pockets of his jeans, and giggled. "I like your ass."

He gave hers a hard smack. "I like yours too."

She giggled. "Oh, we're going toward the truck," she said. Her hair flowing past his knees. Her hands left his jeans to play with the strands. Soft, and pretty. "I like my hair." He offered no response, but very quickly she was back on her feet, and her hair was in her face. He brushed it back. "Cool, me driving?"

"No." He helped her in, and shoved her over to the other side. "Seatbelt."

"Let's go to a field."

"No."

"Happy!"

"No."

"Mappy!" She devolved into giggles, and snuggled up close. "Let's go somewhere. It'll be great."

"Jesus Christ." He got her situated in the middle and got the seatbelt around her waist. "Just be quiet."

She put a finger to her lips. "Quiet," she whispered. He nodded, and backed up the truck, and didn't even make it to the street before she leaned into him. "Happy?"

"What?"

"Where are we going?"

His fingers thrummed against the steering wheel. "Not sure yet."

"You seriously freeload it at the clubhouse seven nights a week?" He said nothing. "I don't think laundry happens there." He still said nothing. "Do you ever wash the sheets?"

"Indie. Shut up."

"I'm just saying. Like go in there with a black light and I'll light up like fucking Christmas." He glared at her, and she put her hands up. She made it a minute before she started again. "Are you mad?"

"I'm thinking."

"Are you mad because I called you a freeloader, or because I said the sheets would light up like Christmas? Do you not like Christmas?"

His hand clamped over her mouth as he stopped at a stop sign. "Shut. Up."

He turned his attention back to the road. "Both?" she asked.

"Fuck me," he muttered.

"'Kay, wanna pull over first?"

That pulled a smile out of him. "Crime scene techs are done at that place you were staying in. We could crash there."

"Or we could fucking not." She shot back. "I'd rather go back to the clubhouse with questionable sheets than return to a place where I shot a couple guys and almost died."

He reached out blindly, found her arm, followed it to her hair, gave it a gentle pull. "Fair enough, Hellcat."

"I've got to get my shit together. I told Dad I'd be staying in Charming. I don't have a place to stay other than the clubhouse. Think Jax and the boys are cool with that? Have I overstayed my welcome? I mean, now that the lockdown is over-"

"You're with me. It's fine."

"I have to go to Red Willow soon. Got to finish shit there," she said absentmindedly. "Need to find someplace steady here." Something her father said struck her in that moment, and she turned to Happy. "I'm uprooting my life. You better be fucking sure you want to be with me."

"I said I was."

Her head leaned against his shoulder, her energy waning. "Can we sleep now? I'm tired."

"Go to sleep."

"I want a bed."

"I'll get you one."

She breathed deep, and her body relaxed. "'Kay," she muttered. Her eyes falling shut.

::

"Having yourself a good time, Love?" Chibs asked when he found his wife shooting the shit with Maureen.

"A very good time, thanks to our new buddy Jack Daniels." She said, pointing to the bottle of alcohol.

"He's such a gentleman, making me all tingly," Maureen said and both woman let out a hoot of laughter.

Chibs rubbed the bridge of his nose, remembering decades earlier when he'd have to get the two women to bed after a night of binge drinking. They could be quite the handful. "Well, now that lockdown is over, we can actually sleep in our own bed."

"Our own bed," Fiona said slowly. "I like the sound of that."

Maureen let out a disgusted sigh. "Well, there is the lovey face. That is my cue." She stood. "And since you have a man, I'm taking Jack."

"Aw, come on now.' Fiona lifted her glass. "At least before you go, fill me up."

Maureen shot her a smirk over her shoulder. "You have Filip for that."

::

He drove around for a couple hours, not really wanting to wake her. The clubhouse would be winding down by now, but it would probably be drunks sprawled on every surface, and there were fifty-fifty odds that someone took his room. He pulled into a cheap motel off the highway, and gently laid Indie down as he got out. She didn't stir. He booked a room, and came back for her. The door screeched as it opened, but she was dead to the world. Unbuckled, he had a hell of a time trying to get her out, but ultimately just pulled her under the arms, until he could get her legs out too.

For a minute, he realized what it would look like to anyone who chose this moment to look out their windows. Him, the tattooed biker, the unconscious blonde in his arms. Her head tipped back at an awkward angle, and he heard a little snore. He couldn't help but laugh as he carried her to the room.

He had the key in his hand, but had a hell of a time getting it into the slot without dropping her. Took him a minute, but he managed. Giving the door a little kick, he carefully got her lanky body through the frame. He laid her down over the blankets, and pushed her onto her side.

She whimpered, and curled into a ball. He wondered what she dreamed of, and if he should wake her from it. Instead, he pulled off her simple little flat shoes with no laces and tossed them aside. By then, her sleeping seemed to have evened out. She looked fairly peaceful. He turned off the light and rid himself of his jeans before laying on the bed beside her.

In her sleep, she moved quite a bit. Rolled over. Kicked him once in the shin. He thought about waking her, wondering if it was normal. She rolled again, facing him, her arm over his stomach, she pulled herself closer. "Indie?" She didn't respond and he figured she still slept. "You awake?"

"Stay," she muttered. Since she had to still be drunk, and didn't actually answer the question he figured she still slept.

"I am."

Her head rested on his chest, and her leg was tangled over his, arm over his chest, like she could insure through strength that he had to stay. Her open vulnerability and separation anxiety made him wonder if she could really handle being his Old Lady- if they decided to go that far. For now, he just enjoyed the sense of peace she brought him, staying awake just to listen to her breathe.


	62. In The Details

With a tray of hot breakfast and a steaming cup of tea, Chibs entered the bedroom. The smile came automatically. Their laid his wife, aglow from the soft light illuminating through the sheet he'd tacked up to lessen the sun- something Fiona would no doubt soon rectify with proper drapes. She'd snuggled up with blankets, her hair a wild mess, one of her gorgeous legs had escaped the blanket confines reminding him that under those covers she was gloriously naked.

He set the tray down on the small dresser next to the bed. After the long night of drinking, and lovemaking, he figured she could use a good breakfast. Fingers gently brushed her hair away from her face. "Love," he said softly. "It's after noon."

Childishly, she grabbed the blanket, and pulled it over her head. "Hungover," she muttered.

"I made you breakfast."

The blanket came down to just below her eyes. She looked up at him, then to the tray of food. "Is that bacon?"

"Yes."

"And eggs?"

"Sunny-side up, just how you like them."

The blanket lowered a little more, and he saw her dreamy little smile. "And toast."

"With orange marmalade."

She sat up, the blanket pooling at her waist. "Hard to believe you had marmalade," she said, snagging the piece of toast from the plate, giving it a quick inspection. "Did you have to scrape mould off it?"

He glared, but the smile lessened its effect. "I drove to the supermarket to get it."

The dreamy smile came back. "Oh, my Filip." Her hand cupped his cheek. "You are the sweetest man." She tilted her head. "You have a dot of purple on your forehead."

He frowned. "Also started to help Kerri paint her room."

Her eyebrows shot up. "She's already up?"

"Actually, she's back down. Crashed on the couch after a couple hours of painting." It had been wonderful, to get to spend time with his daughter again. Just the two of them, listening to the radio, arguing about the station, talking about whatever came to mind. She had ideas about decorating her room, and buying candles, and decorative pillows, and an accent mirror which would add some 'interest' to her small space while being functional. He simply enjoyed the fact that for the first time in years he'd gotten to spend quality time with his daughter.

"She's making herself at home." Fiona grinned, bringing the tray to her lap. "Oh, tea! Bless your heart."

He kissed her temple, and she leaned against him. Here she was, in Charming, in his house, in his bed, the love of his life. "I love you, Fi." He couldn't say it enough. After being separated so long, he felt the need to insure she knew it. They could never go back to that horrible place where they'd lost so many years. He didn't think he could survive having his girls back in his life only to lose them again. There is, after all, only so much a man can be expected to take.

Her kiss soothed his mind, relaxed his body, and pulled at his soul. "And I you," she said, her breath a caress against his lips.

::

Happy glanced at the clock. He'd laid awake for the past two hours, watching the beautiful woman entangled in his arms. Lately, he'd taken notice the tension in her body, the quick flickers of pain, and outright vulnerability on her face. Defenseless in his arms, she appeared at peace. Usually when he had a gorgeous woman in bed his only thought was to fuck her and leave. With Indiana, he wanted her to feel safe and get some much needed sleep.

Those gorgeous blue eyes opened in tiny slits. She groaned, and buried her face against him. "Is it morning?"

His hand splayed at her lower back, pre-emptively keeping her pressed against him. "Early afternoon."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"Earl-"

"I heard you, it was rhetorical." She shifted slightly, looking around. His hand pressed tighter. "Where are we?"

"A motel room," he replied. She looked down at herself, still fully clothed. He wondered if she had expected him to take advantage of her when she was that intoxicated. Probably. His fingers were gentle as they ran over her forehead, pushing her bangs away from her eyes. "Where's your head at?"

"The corner of 'Hungover,' and 'Regret.'" She pressed her fingers against her temples. "I think I said something stupid to Gemma. I just keep seeing her face get all red, and her hands balling into fists." She looked at the backs of her hands, expecting scrapes but finding none. Eyes shifted back to Happy. "How did we end up here?"

He scratched at the stubble on his chin. "Well, you called Gem out on having grey roots."

Indiana groaned before he could go any further. She hid her face against him again. "Shit, what the fuck am I going to do?"

He raised an eyebrow. "It can't be that bad."

She lifted her head up to glare at him. "This is Gemma we're talking about. There is no fix for 'hey, I pointed out your grey hairs at a party.' Fuck!"

"She'll get over it." His phone rang. He wanted to ignore it, but couldn't. She immediately released him, and hid her face with the pillow instead. He rolled out of bed to pull the device out of his discarded jeans. "Yeah?"

He listened to Bobby on the other end of the line, but half of his attention remained on Indiana. She'd rolled onto her back, and her shirt had ridden up an inch. She watched him, staying completely silent. Her tongue darted between her lips, and it shouldn't have been sexual, but it had him aching anyway.

Somewhere through the static, he caught what Bobby said. "Yeah, I'll be there," Happy told him, and hung up the phone. "Did you want a shower or something?" he asked, trying to keep his voice from betraying his arousal. "Church has been set for three, got a couple hours to kill."

She sat up, ran her hand over her face. "Yeah, but all my shit is at the clubhouse."

"I'll get it," he said, pulling his jeans back on.

Blue eyes narrowed. "Really?"

"Just said I would," he replied, sitting on the side of the bed to tie his boots. He remembered _vividly_ what happened at Diosa, the way she'd worked him up only to let him down. She needed time- which meant he needed space.

Her body moulded to his back, her arms wrapping around him, her lips a sweet torture against the back of his neck. "Thank you," she whispered. "I really don't want to go back to the clubhouse right now."

He cleared his throat. "Scare to see Gemma?"

He felt her lips on the back of his neck as they curved upward, her breath warm against his skin as she spoke, "You have no idea."

::

As a doctor, and as a mother, Tara was pissed with herself for not suspecting sooner. Increased sex drive, sore breasts, ice cream cravings, scent sensitivity, oh, and that missing period. Sure, she could have blamed it on the stress- having a man wanting you dead, and being put under lockdown in a MC clubhouse will do that to you. Of course, there was no way to be certain. It wasn't like she would tell Jax, he had enough on his plate, and if he got anymore overbearing, she might just strangle him. She couldn't go to Gemma, couldn't, wouldn't, whatever. Tara burned that bridge, and she currently had no desire to rebuild it. She didn't trust any of the guys with it, double with the Croweaters. Now that the lockdown for everyone else had been lifted, the clubhouse was much quieter, and she had fewer options.

She stood in bathroom checking her figure in the mirror. She was sure she didn't look any different, but lifted her shirt a bit. Her hand ran over her flat stomach imagining it growing as it had with Thomas. Another child?

The sex drive could be put down to boredom, the sore breasts a side effect to lovemaking. Ice cream cravings a desperate plea for something indulgent. Her increased sensitivity to smell could be written off as everything fucking stank in the dirty clubhouse- especially since it had been housing so many people. Missing period, nothing but stress. Explained away, she convinced herself to put her suspicions at the back of her mind.

She walked out of the bathroom and walked into a solid wall of man. She looked up and managed a small grin. "Hey, Happy."

He gave her a nod. "Need to take a leak."

"Oh. Right." She side stepped him, and walked down the hall.

The nearly empty main area left her feeling at odds. Somewhere along the line, she'd grown accustom to the large group of people staying within the Clubhouse's walls.

Tig, who had watched the boys while she went to the washroom, chased Abel around the pool table, the little boy shrieking with delight. Thomas giggled in his seat as he watched the two go around and around. She sat down with her little boy, picking him up to place him on her lap. The boy looked up, grinning so wide his pacifier fell out.

The door opened and Brooklyn walked in, RJ balanced on her hip. Tara perked up. All the excuses she'd built up were crushed by curiosity, and the means to find out. "Hey." Tara waved.

Brooklyn carefully avoided some liquid spilled upon the floor, and made her way over to the couch where Thomas and Tara sat. She glanced around the room, taking in the emptiness. "It got real quiet here."

"Lockdown is over. For most," Tara said bitterly. The peach fuzz of Thomas's hair soothed her as she ran her hand over his head. "What will you do now?"

Brooklyn watched the little car that RJ drove over her leg. "Honestly?" She laughed, but it was hollow, almost pained. "I have no idea."

The two women sat in silence for a moment. Happy came back through the room, a duffle bag over his shoulder, a small box under his arm. "Hey!" Brooklyn snapped her fingers at him.

He paused, glared at her. The toothpick moved from one side of his mouth to the other. "What?"

"Is my sister with you?" She asked.

Happy adjusted the duffle on his shoulder. "Yeah."

Brooklyn's lips pressed into a thin line. "Here?"

"No."

"Always with the one word answers," she muttered. He remained silent. "Is she okay?"

"Yeah."

Brooklyn huffed out an annoyed breath. "Let her know I want to talk to her."

The toothpick switched sides again. "Do I look like your fucking messenger?"

"Could you not be a pain in the ass?" She shot back. "I didn't see her last night, but I heard about some of her more interesting comments later. Just fucking let her know I want to talk to her. She doesn't have a phone anymore." Her eyes narrowed at him. "Now does she?"

He turned his back to her. "I'll tell her." And then he was out the door.

"Is he just like that to me?" Brooklyn asked. "Or is he always that fucking chipper?"

"No, that's pretty much Happy," Tara admitted.

Brooklyn shook her head. "I will never understand what Indiana sees in him."

"Mom, mom!" Abel cried out excitedly. "Can I go play on the swings with Tig?"

Tara glanced over at Tig, who wore a big smile. Apparently he was fine with it. "Sure," she said to her son. "When you tire of him, bring him back," she said to Tig. He gave her a mock salute, before leading the boy out. She looked around. "Where did everyone go?"

"The guys who weren't from here, they all took off early this morning. I guess with the lockdown over, the extra man power wasn't needed. As for the Charming boys, beats me. No one tells me anything," Brooklyn said. "Dad was taking Tink somewhere upon her insistence. He didn't seem enthused. Probably clothes shopping." Her expression soured before she muttered, "Dax didn't say shit."

Tara glanced around, totally empty. Not even a seemingly ever present Croweater. "Can I ask a favour of you?"

Brooklyn's eyes became hard, and narrowed into slits. "What?"

Time to bite the bullet. She trusted Brooklyn about as much as she could trust anyone at this point. "You can leave the compound, I'm still on lockdown. I just need you to pick up something for me."

Curiosity soothed Brooklyn's features. "And that something would be…"

Tara took one last cautious look around, and leaned in. "A pregnancy test."

Eyes widened, lips parted, Brooklyn's expression smoothed out pretty quick. "Wow. Okay."

::

Indiana sat on the bed, her long hair wrapped up in a hand towel, half of her hair hanging out. The only full-sized towel was wrapped around her body. She had the motel phone to her ear, waiting for Emily to answer.

_"_ _Who the fuck is this?"_

Indiana grinned. "Me."

_"_ _Oh, shit, hey. Where the fuck did you disappear off to?"_

"A motel, with Happy."

_"_ _Oh dear God, yes! It's about goddamn time! Tell me all the filthy details."_

Indiana rolled her eyes. "I was drunk, woke up fully dressed."

Emily groaned. _"You're killing me. Seriously. Fuck that man and give me details."_

She laughed. "It's like you're not getting laid on a regular basis. Now listen," she demanded, checking the clock. "Has Happy been at the clubhouse?"

_"_ _Don't know. It's my first day of freedom. I dragged Angus to a lingerie store as my passive-aggressive-semi-sexual way of getting back at him. He won't hold it against me, I have stockings. He fucking loves stockings."_

"And you're just talking about this right next to him?"

_"_ _God no, I'm in the change room. Back to this Happy at the clubhouse thing, why do you need to know? I think Brooklyn's there, you could call her."_

"No, no, it's fine. It's just… I'm thinking timing and shit. I need to pack up my stuff, Mac's stuff. Need to hit Red Willow, need to hit Vegas. I hate to hijack your bachelorette party, but I need your help with something."

_"_ _Girl, you know I have your back. What do you need?"_

Indiana's shoulders relaxed. She knew she could always count on Emily. "I need you to keep an eye out for security while I count cards."

The heavy breath created static. _"You're going to get caught one of these days, and my being there isn't going to deter them."_

"I'm good. I count, I win a couple hands, I move on. It takes time, but less chances of me getting broken fingers in a back alleyway. Are you in?"

_"_ _Yeah, of course."_

"Not even going to ask why?"

_"_ _Indie, have I ever asked why? You need me to do something, I do it. If you want to tell me, tell me. If you don't, I have your back regardless."_

"Thanks." Indiana sighed. "I'll tell you later. Honestly, probably best if you don't know. Plausible deniability is a girl's best friend." She heard the keys at the door. "I've got to go." She hung up without saying goodbye. The door swung open and Happy kicked it shut. He tossed the bag on the bed. "Thanks, Hap."

"Brooke wants to talk to you."

Her eyebrows shot up. "About?"

"Didn't ask."

Indiana nodded slowly. "Okay." She felt conflicted about potentially seeing her sister. Their relationship had always been complicated. "I'll," she took a deep breath. "I'll call her after I'm dressed." _Maybe._

She grabbed the duffle, and turned toward the bathroom, only to have Happy's hands on her shoulders, his breath on the back of her neck. "Isn't like I haven't seen it before," he muttered, thumbs brushing over her skin.

Her body reacted, melting into the contact. However rough his skin, his touch stayed gentle. She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes meeting the intensity of his. Deliberate slow breaths kept her from getting lightheaded. The look in his eyes either meant something really, really bad, or something really, really good. Fingers toyed with the towel in her hair, and with one yank it untangled, he dropped it to the floor.

She swallowed hard, and turned to face him, backing a step. He closed the space and she took another two steps back, he followed. So good it's bad? So bad it's good? Her back hit the wall and before she could collect her scattered thoughts, his hands were on her hips. Lips against hers were insistent, and she couldn't resist.

The hard lines of him pressed against her. She needed to stop him. Needed him never to stop. Hands blazed trails over her skin, the heat of his palm against her breast and it took her a long moment to realize he'd stripped her of her towel. There were reasons why she needed to stop, but for the life of her she couldn't figure out what they were. Good sense had abandoned her, sensation was all that remained. Her nails scraped over his scalp, wishing he had hair, something to find grip with. She needed to be closer, closer, closer still. She nipped his lip, and his hand in her hair pulled, she shuddered.

His lips were over her jaw, and had focussed on her neck. Her knees trembled, hands grabbed his shoulders for balance. _There._ Somewhere through the fog she saw it and the guilt swamped her so suddenly she thought she'd be sick. "Stop-" she begged, the voice not entirely hers, cracking, breaking. "Stop, please stop."

That voice, like ice water, sent a shiver down Happy's spine that was followed by a dose of sickness. He pulled himself away from her, and found tears in her eyes. She pointed, and he turned. The box of ashes. _Fuck._ She had told him to bring her 'stuff' which included the box. Just his luck, Mac was cock-blocking him from the dead.

He turned back to find her palms over her eyes, fingers splayed. Shoulders had rolled forward, and there was some strangled sob that escaped her lips that sounded like a twisted curse. "I'm sorry, fuck, I'm sorry."

Unsure what to do, he turned to grab her duffle. "You should get dressed." By the time he turned back to her, she had the towel back around her body and was tucking the end between her breasts. Her eyes remained averted, firmly on the floor. She reached out and he passed her bag. He watched her retreat into the bathroom. "Fuck," he whispered sitting down on the corner of the bed, wondering what the hell he'd gotten himself into.


	63. On The Road

Indiana sat silently in the front seat of the truck. She’d made arrangements to meet Brooklyn at the local diner. Emily would also be meeting her there in a half-hour with her car, it was time they took a road trip. Happy had been quiet after she’d emerged from the shower, and she didn’t blame him. She was an emotional minefield. It was fucking embarrassing. Somewhere along the way, she’d lost complete control of her emotions, and it was about damn time she got it back.

 

He pulled up to the curb, and she grabbed her duffle bag, and slung her purse over her shoulder. “You don’t have to wait,” she said. “Emily will be here soon.”

 

“You’re leaving,” he stated.

 

She bit her lip, she’d implied it earlier, however she hadn’t announced concrete plans to him. “For a couple of days to get my shit sorted. I think Em and I both need it, a little space, some time.”

 

He nodded. “I made the call to the Vegas charter while I was getting your stuff. Nothing major going on.”

 

It warmed her that he’d look into the state of things before she left. Just another way he insured her safety. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.” Attention shifted to the door as she struggled to get her bags out. “I’ll see you in a few days.” He said nodded and she shut the door.

 

Safely on the sidewalk, she waved to him as he drove off. She’d get her shit together, she had to. Adjusting the strap on her bag, she walked the short distance to the diner, and stared in the window. In the back corner, Brooklyn sat with RJ. It was her first real chance to get a good study of the boy, but she quickly looked away as she’d trained herself to do.

 

Her relationship with her half-sister could be described as tumultuous at best. Two years ago, Brooklyn had walked out of her life. If their father hadn’t tasked Dax with keeping tabs on her, they wouldn’t have known she’d married, nor known she’d had a child. They’d watched from afar, and Indiana had refused to listen to any details either might know.

 

A part of her wanted a relationship with her sibling. Another never wanted it to form. Brooklyn, it shamed Indiana to admit, had the same flaw as she did. They both had the habit of running away when things got hard. Brooklyn did this physically, she packed up and left town. Indiana did so emotionally, shutting down, and putting up walls.

 

She had a nephew, he was sitting right there, inside that diner, and she found her feet locked on the ground. What real reason did Brooklyn have to stay? She’d lost her husband to club bullshit. She had RJ to watch out for. History foretold Brooklyn Quinn packing bags once again and putting as many miles between herself and this place as possible.

 

 _So why should I go inside?_ Indiana rubbed the bridge of her nose. She didn’t want to look at RJ, didn’t want to know his face, of the sound of his laugh, didn’t want to hold the small child, or see him grin up at her. Did he speak yet? Would he try to say her name?

 

Emily’s Tiguan pulled up to the curb. The window rolled down, Emily smiled, her makeup covering any evidence she’d recently been held by a madman. “Hey, I know I’m early. I can wait.”

 

Indiana looked back through the window, and caught Brooklyn’s eye. “No.” She turned away from her sister. Hadn’t she dealt with enough pain and suffering? By the time she returned, Brooklyn would have put Charming in her rear-view. She carefully put her bags in the back, and rushed around the hood. Climbing in, she buckled up and turned to Emily. “Drive.”

 

The brunette blew out a breath. “You didn’t talk to your sister, did you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I have enough to deal with. I’m not taking on anything more,” Indiana snapped. “I’m at fucking capacity, okay? On top of everything else, I can’t be expected to try and forge a relationship with my bitchy sister, and no one can expect me to hold my nephew and not fall in love, and then she’ll take him away, and I’ll just have to deal with it.”

 

“Woah,” Emily whispered. “Sweetie, you’re right. You do need some time away from everything. Maybe we should just go somewhere quiet.”

 

“Your party-“

 

“Fuck my party. Let’s face it, we’re going to Vegas for a whole different set of reasons.”

 

Indiana felt ashamed. Emily was her best friend, the wedding had been pushed back, and the bride-to-be was feeling the stress, and instead of helping, Indiana had intended on hijacking an event meant to spoil her. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t apologize,” Emily said, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the door. She carefully drove with one hand while pulling one out. “Let’s get you even again.” Foot pressed on the brake, slowing them to a stop at a red light. She lit the cigarette, and inhaled deeply. “So, break it down for me, just like University. What do you need to accomplish?”

 

“All kinds of shit,” she muttered.

 

“Lists.” Emily gestured with her cigarette. “Detailed lists. Prioritize them. What’s weighing most on you?” When the silence lingered, Emily shook her head. “Indie, don’t think about it! What’s weighing on you the most?”

 

“Mac. I really fucked up with him, Em.” She stared out her window. “I got caught up with Happy once while we were together, before he died. I went into a relationship I didn’t even really want to be in. I took advantage of him. He was my friend, and I knew he had deeper feelings for me, and I figured no one else would want me.” She wrung her hands. “I’m a horrible human being.”

 

“No, you’re simply a human being. We all make mistakes. We all do things and say things we don’t mean.”

 

“I stayed in a loveless relationship for years because it was better than being hit on constantly and called a ‘cock tease’ when I said no.” She stared miserably out the window. “I did it for convenience.”

 

“Don’t belittle what you had,” Emily said. “You loved him, in your own way. It wasn’t that ‘let’s grow old together’ kind of love, but it wasn’t just you taking advantage of him.”

 

She exhaled loudly. “I was in love with someone else.”

 

“Well, of course you were! You’ve been in love with Happy since you were sixteen!” Emily laughed. “That is one love you want to spend every day with.”

 

Indiana groaned. “Fuck me, I’m in love with Happy Lowman.” She hid her face in her hands. “There is no way this just heads into clear blue skies.”

 

“Na, your relationship is going to be fucked. Buckle in sweetheart, because no ride with him will be smooth.” She waited a beat, a playful smirk lighting up her eyes. “See what I did there?”

 

“Yeah, caught it.” Indiana rolled her eyes.

 

“I want details!” Emily insisted. “I bet that man has moves!”

 

Indiana shook her head. “One thing at a time.”

 

“So what’s the plan?” she asked, flooring it down a straight stretch as they left the Charming town limits.

 

“Red Willow,” Indiana said, resting her head against the cool window. “Promised Mac I’d scatter the ashes in the event of his death. Might have been a shitty girlfriend, but I can do that.”

 

“Red Willow it is,” Emily said.

 

::

 

Brooklyn returned to the clubhouse, for lack of a better option. Her sister had stood her up, in a way. She’d watched Indiana stand outside the diner, only to turn away and leave.

 

Bobby was the only one sitting around, and upon questioning, she discovered Tara had taken a nap along with her boys. RJ chose that moment to yawn widely, and she knew it was far past his own naptime.

  
The room felt familiar, but not homey. Safe, but not comfortable. She missed the lovely home she’d lived in; the big bed with the soft sheets, the spacious kitchen, RJ’s nursery. She tossed her things on the desk, along with the bag for Tara.

 

“Nap?” she said quietly to RJ. “Sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

 

“Nap,” the boy repeated quietly, yawning once more.

 

She laid him down and pulled the blankets up to his chin. “Get some rest, mommy loves you.” She laid down on her back, closed her eyes, _just for a second,_ but drifted off to sleep.

 

::

 

Emily was belting out the lyrics to a _Journey_ song, and it reminded Indiana of the long commutes from South Dakota to Red Willow when they’d return for spring break or holidays. Having her best friend beside her made her feel a little more confident. Nothing seemed impossible with Emily at her side. The woman had a knack for breaking things down to basics, and making Indiana feel a little foolish for blowing them out of proportion in the first place.

 

When the song finished, Emily turned the radio down again. “So, do you want to give me the scoop on the counting cards thing?”

 

“Happy’s drowning in debt. His mother’s medical bills are brutal.”

 

“I can’t see him the type to be okay with accepting help.”

 

“He isn’t,” Indiana replied. “So I’m going to win the money, pay it all off, and pretend like I had nothing to do with it.”

 

Emily glanced over at her friend, and then gently shook her head. “He’ll figure it out, he’s not stupid.”

 

“No, he’s not.” Indiana shrugged. “But by then, there won’t be a damn thing he can do about it.”

 

Fingers tapped on the steering wheel. “He might get angry.”

 

“Then let him.” Indiana gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “I like Carina. I love Happy. Why shouldn’t I help?”

 

“I could write a list,” Emily said. “I understand your desire to help, but Happy-“

 

“Will fucking deal with it.”

 

Emily nodded, a smile settling upon her lips. “Alright. I’ll bank my ‘I told you so.’”

 

“I can’t just do nothing, you know?” Indiana picked up the water bottle she’d purchased when they’d stopped to fill up on gas. She sipped on the cool liquid, and recapped it. “I can do something to help, and I’m going to. I’m getting control of my life again.”

 

As much as Emily loved that she could see Indiana’s spine making a reappearance, she still needed the woman to stay on the side of caution. “But will this lead to a loss of control. Happy’s reactions are typically… unsavoury.”

 

“I’ll deal with it.” Indiana bit her bottom lip, wondering how well. “I need to be honest with myself. I’ve lived a comfortable lie with Mac for the past few years. I’ve bent as far as I can, I just… I need to get back to me again. Does that make sense?”

 

“Yeah, I get what you’re saying,” Emily replied. “No matter what, I’ve got your back. Always.”

 

Indiana smiled at the reassurance. If she couldn’t count on anyone else, she could always count on Emily.

 

::

 

Dax had finished up his business in Church. They needed to tie up this Toric bullshit, but he’d gone off the grid. Everyone was to press any contacts they had. Jax wanted to find this guy and put him in the ground before he could hurt his wife, and all the brothers were behind him.

 

He checked in Brooklyn’s room, and found her sleeping beside her son. They both appeared so peaceful. He didn’t want to disturb them, but did want to speak with Brooklyn later. A note would suffice. He stepped in the room, and quietly shut the door behind himself. A pad of sticky-notes sat on the desk. The pen stuck out from under her purse, which he gave a little push out of the way. A small bag fell off the table. Frozen, he waited a beat, glancing over his shoulder. Neither awakened.

 

Letting out a breath, he bent to pick up the bag, curiosity had him peering inside. A home-pregnancy test. “The fuck?” he muttered. He looked at Brooklyn, then back in the bag, then back at Brooklyn. They were starting all over again, getting to know one another after years apart. She was the one woman he took seriously. A fucking pregnancy test. It’d be her husbands, or at least, not his, since they hadn’t hooked up since she’d come back.

 

Placing the bag back on her purse, he glanced back at her once again, and then took leave from the room.


	64. Hello. Goodbye.

Indiana and Emily had spent the night at the Quinn residence in Red Willow. Indiana’s childhood room brought a sense of comfort, and an overwhelming nostalgia as they slept side by side. Frequently during the night one would wake, and start a conversation with the words ‘remember when.’ They shared happy memories, the humourous recounting of the anecdotes had them both laughing more than sleeping.

 

Unspoken between them, they wanted to keep the day as light and positive as possible. Emily dressed in a band t-shirt, a souvenir from a concert she’d attended with Mac, Angus, and Indiana when they were teenagers. “You should wear something skanky,” Emily said in jest as she rifled through Indiana’s closet. “It’s what Mac would want.”

 

Indiana glanced at the box which held his ashes. Fuck it. “Yeah, it would be.”

 

Emily pulled a hot pink lycra dress out of the closet. “This.”

 

Indiana burst out laughing. “That is a Halloween costume.”

 

“What the fuck were you?” Emily asked, looking the garment over once again. “Pepto Bismol? She’d remember it if she’d saw this costume- and figured it had to be the year her uncle had passed and she’d driven home mostly because her father was paying her tuition and demanded it.

 

“Playboy bunny, the ears are probably still in there.” Indiana joined her friend at the closet, and looked for something less obnoxiously slutty.

 

::

 

At the bar, Brooklyn watched the scene before her with a serene smile. Her father bounced RJ on his knee, the boy laughing with delight, babbling more than he made sense, but Rane Quinn looked more than pleased with the development. She half expected the guys to start razzing him, but while Bobby and Tig appeared amused, they said nothing, and Jax was preoccupied with cleaning his gun.

 

Her attention shifted when the door opened. Dax. Their eyes met, and she sent him a smile and a little wave. Years ago she would have felt more confident, stuck out her chest a little, and sent him a smile more saucy than sweet. Still self-conscious of her post-baby body, she had to admit that her confidence laid firmly in her looks.

 

He glanced over at Quinn with RJ, then joined her at the bar. “What are you drinking?” he asked, going behind the bar to grab himself a beer.

 

“Well I was on tonic water, but I’ll take a beer.”

 

His eyebrows furrowed. “Is that really a good idea?”

 

“What do you mean?” she asked. “Is this the beginning of a joke?”

 

“So it was negative,” he muttered.

 

“Negative?” She grabbed her glass. “What was?”

 

He huffed out an annoyed breath. “The pregnancy test.” She choked on her drink, beat her fist against her chest, coughing.

 

“Brooke,” Quinn called over the music and banter of Bobby and Tig. “You alright?”

 

She managed to regain her breath and sent her father a thumbs up. “Can you watch RJ for a little while?”

 

Quinn looked more than pleased at the offer. “Yeah, of course.”

 

Brooklyn returned her attention to Dax. “Come with me.” She abandoned the bar, walked past Jax who looked a little too into putting his gun back together, and led the way down the hall. Once in the room, she waited until Dax was in before shutting the door. “Pregnancy test! What the hell!”

 

“I came in last night, wanted to talk to you. You were sleeping so I thought to leave a note.” His words came out fast, he paced with agitated energy. “I wasn’t snooping, the bag fell off the desk.”

 

A tiny smirk formed on her face. “You idiot.” She gave him a playful swat in the chest. “It isn’t mine.”

 

His eyes narrowed, obviously not believing her. “Oh really?”

 

“Really. I just picked it up for someone.” She crossed her arms. “Instead of jumping to conclusions and calling me out on having a pregnancy test in public, maybe you should just talk to me about it.”

 

“It was in your room,” he replied, scratching the stubble on his jaw. “Seemed self-explanatory.”

 

“Well, you know what happens when one assumes.” She leaned her hip against the desk. “Why did it bother you so much? Because you thought I was with a child?”

 

His arms crossed over his chest, and then when that stance didn’t calm his ire, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Because I thought you might be with someone else.”

 

“Well, I’m not.” Her eyes followed his jerky movements, the clear irritation in every stance.

 

He fidgeted, unable to stay still. “Good.”

 

Her heart fluttered, and her hands gripped the edge of the desk. “And why is that good?” she asked a little breathless.

 

An exasperated sigh escaped his lips. “You know why.”

 

She took a deep breath, preparing herself to take the plunge. “Care to show?”

 

Two quick steps closed the space between them. Lips met hard; quick, hungry kisses shared. Their impatient hands re-discovered once familiar bodies.

 

“If you want to stop, tell me now,” he warned on a growl.

 

Deft hands made quick work of the button and zipper on his jeans. “Unless you’re talking dirty, shut the fuck up,” she muttered against his lips; she felt his smile as he guided her to bed.

 

::

 

They debated where to scatter the ashes at length. The parking lot at Sanctuary seemed a little too close to home. The woods where they’d held bonfires held some allure. “Where would he want to spend eternity?” Emily muttered.

 

“The road,” Indiana immediately responded.

 

And so that’s where they scattered his ashes. The long straight stretch that went to Sanctuary fit their needs. Emily drove picking up speed as Indiana released the ashes through the sunroof. She stayed a moment, standing on her seat, staring at the open road. “Goodbye Mac.”

 

She sat back down in the car, and set the box on the dash while she buckled up. “We should burn the box.”

 

“And share a bottle of Gibson’s like old times.”

 

Indiana laughed. “Sounds like a plan.”

 

::

 

The fire crackled as the sun started to set. The bottle of whiskey sat empty between them. A gentle breeze rustled the canopy of leaves above them. Neither noticed the cold, not with the warmth of the alcohol warming their veins.

 

“Remember when we stopped at my house?” Emily said.

 

“Last night? Yeah,” Indiana replied. “You just had to have that t-shirt.”

 

“Yeah, well. I grabbed the mail.” Her eyes went to the empty bottle. She picked it up and gave it a shake like she might find another shot in there. “I went through it while you were in the shower.”

 

Indiana waited a minute. “Coupons?” she said, trying to get her friend to keep going. Instead of the typical verbal answer, Emily pulled a small envelope from her pocket, and Indiana recognized the stationary. “Wedding invite response.”

 

Emily passed it over. “Open it.”

 

Indiana’s eyes scanned over it, and sighed. Emily’s parents had checked off the ‘regretfully decline’ box, and had even been callous enough to scratch out ‘regretfully.’ She bit her lip. There weren’t words to fix the situation. “Em-“

 

“I didn’t expect them to attend,” Emily said quickly. Her eyes focussed on the fire, and she gave a jerky shrug of her shoulders. “I knew deep down that they wouldn’t. They basically disowned me when I got engaged to Angus. ‘Throwing your life away,’ they said.” She shrugged again. “I guess I just wanted them to be happy for me even if I crushed their hopes and dreams. They had this image of what their daughter should be and I never fit the mold.” Wiping her palms on her knees, she turned back to Indiana. “I knew they’d decline, I just didn’t realize it would hurt so much.” Indiana rested her head against Emily’s shoulder, the two remained side by side in solidarity.

 

::

 

“Are you sure?” Happy asked Jax. He’d received a call from his aunt, who blasted him with a long list of problems both personal and practical in need of his attention.

 

“Yeah.” Jax tossed a wrench into his tool box.

 

“I’m sure I can find someone else to deal with this shit.” Happy rubbed the back of his neck. “I should be here. This shit with Toric-“

 

“Brother!” Jax clasped a hand over Happy’s shoulder. “We still can’t get this worm out from whatever rock he’s hiding under. Besides, if anyone’s going to get to go psycho on this motherfucker, it’s me.” He grinned, and gave Happy a shove. “Go help your aunt.”

 

“Thanks brother.”

 

“Take the fucking truck. That piece of shit you bought is hardly roadworthy for a trip to Bakersfield.”

 

Happy glanced over at the P.O.S motorcycle he’d purchased out of desperation. It ran. Barely. He grabbed the keys for the truck off the counter, and headed out.

 

::

 

Kisses were softer, sweeter than Brooklyn remembered they could be. The first round had been a race, the second a homecoming. Hot, sweaty limbs entangled around one another. Laying on their sides, facing each other, she felt his warm breath on her lips. Years slipped away, and she wondered why she ever left in the first place. Eager to make up for the time lost, she kissed Dax once again.

 

After so many years of simply going through the motions, he made her feel alive again, cherished. No matter how hard she’d tried to deny it, or run from it, this was her life. This was exactly where she was meant to be.


	65. Flowers

Happy awoke to the scent of bacon frying. He’d made it to Bakersfield late at night, and let himself into his aunt’s place. The stabbing pain lanced up his back as he shifted, the couch had done him no favours. Opening his eyes, he caught sight of a figure in the doorway, and he jolted upright.

 

His aunt, Marietta, stood in the doorway, her grey hair in curlers, nightgown down to her ankles, an apron over that, and a wooden spatula in hand. “Manuel, get up,” she ordered. “It is eight o’clock. What kind of laze-around stays in bed until eight?”

 

He groaned, and rubbed his temples. “Good to see you too, Tia Marietta.”

 

“Get washed up.” She waved the wooden spatula in warning. “Breakfast will be done in five minutes.”

 

::

 

The morning delivered hangovers, greasy breakfast, and large mugs of coffee. Emily finished her bacon, and took another large gulp of coffee. “I feel like a fucking badass. We’re basically going to rob a casino.”

 

Alarmed, Indiana sat up straighter. “That isn’t even close to what we’re doing! We’re-“

 

“Shhhh!” Emily waved her off. “Let me have my moment. I feel like I should wear something fancy, like one of those Bond Girls!”

 

“No, wear something appropriate and blend in,” Indiana said, no humour in her voice. “I win money, lots of money, and you watch security.”

 

“I know,” Emily waved the words away again, and then snatched a slice of bacon from Indiana’s plate. “We’ve got this. Have you spoken to Happy?”

 

“No.”

 

“Has he called?”

 

“No, does he look like a chick to you? Do you think he handles clingy?” She got up and crossed her parent’s kitchen and topped off her coffee. “I fucking doubt it.”

 

Emily rolled her eyes. “Communication is crucial in a relationship.”

 

“Let’s see if I still have a relationship by the time I’m done with this trip, hm.”

 

::

 

Vegas didn’t sleep; neither did they. In their luxurious hotel room, Indiana and Emily counted their pay day. “I can’t believe how uneventful this is, you fucking fleeced the tables.” Emily looked over at the stacks of thousands on the desk. “You know, if you walk into the bank or hospital with that, you’re going to look like a drug dealer.”

 

“A successful medicinal entrepreneur,” Indiana countered, earning her a snort of laughter from Emily. “You know, it’s not too late to go and see some male strippers.”

 

“Na, not in the mood for it,” Emily said, gazing out at the lights of the city. “Let’s rent a chick flick, order room service, and not get drunk. I’m still recovering. I definitely drank most of that bottle of Gibson’s.” She found the remote, and flipped through the channels. “Hey, I think this is produced by Cara Cara.”

 

Indiana shook her head. “Nothing rated R.”

 

Emily laughed. “Fine, I’ll keep looking.”

 

::

 

Happy hated computers. They were Juice’s specialty. For once, he wished the little shit was around. The entire internet banking thing did save him a lot of time, especially with the half a dozen credit cards, line of credit, and constantly shifting bills and expenses around. While he was getting better at it, computers were still annoying, and his aunt’s shitty desktop took five minutes just to load the page.

 

And now, the bank had made a mistake.

 

Running his hand over his head, he cursed. As nice as it was to see his accounts in the positives, and the debt on his cards cleared, he hadn’t done a damn thing.

 

The likelihood of the bank making such an error was low.

 

He stared at the screen, at those zeros for debt. That suspicious even five grand in his account. “Vegas,” he muttered.

 

“Speak up,” his aunt snapped from where she was obsessively cleaning the television stand.

 

“Nothing,” he said, trying his best to keep his tone even. But oh, Indiana Quinn would be hearing about this.

 

::

 

“You want me to what?” Juice spoke into the phone he had pinned to his ear with this shoulder while ignoring Kerrianne’s inquisitive look. Catching Trinity trying to sneak a peek, he readjusted his cards. He listened to Happy, and then blew out a breath, folding his cards. “Yeah. Sure.”

 

“What was that about?” Kerrianne felt comfortable asking. She never asked Jimmy, or her mother what they spoke about when on the phone. Knew nothing good could come of it.

 

“I just have to do something for Hap,” Juice said vaguely. “Sorry ladies, you’ll half to find someone else to lose to.”

 

“Look at him, thinkin’ he was going to win,” Trinity said with a smirk. “Cute.”

 

::

 

The flowers didn’t have any scent, as the florist warned the hospital administration would often confiscate ones that did smell. What they lacked in fragrance, they more than made up in being showy and spectacular. Indiana hugged the vase of the large arrangement, unable to see around the flowers, Emily guided her.

 

“You know, it’s a good thing Happy is still in Charming or I’d be freaking out right now,” Emily said leading Indiana by the arm. “I mean, that man is scarier than casino security, and I’ve seen mob movies. I know what happens to people who screw over casinos-“

 

“You’re confusing movies and real life again,” Indiana warned with a light laugh. She hadn’t felt this good in a long time.

 

“Movies are based off real life,” Emily argued. “Stop a second, I need to look at the map.”

  
“You’re shit at reading maps, where are we? Maternity?”

 

“Geriatrics,” Emily said with a laugh. “We’re not even on the right floor.”

 

“Good job.”

 

“Shut it.”

 

::

 

Carina smiled, and Happy felt a little bit better. The visit soothed him. She was getting stronger, healthier, the doctors were optimistic. She was happy, laughing, smiling. His phone beeped, and he checked the text message from Juice. “Fucking hell,” he muttered under his breath.

 

“Happy!” Carina snapped. “Watch your language!”

 

“Sorry, Ma.” He tucked his phone away, of course Indiana was in Bakersfield. Of course Juice could pinpoint her phone within five miles of his location. Of. Fucking. Course.

 

Her smile returned. “So-“

 

“Don’t start,” he warned, but he couldn’t manage to put any heat behind the words.

 

“Did you find yourself a nice girl yet?” Carina grinned, thoroughly enjoying teasing him. “You’re not getting any younger, you know. And you look so thin!”

 

He groaned. “Ma! I’m fine, and I’m not getting thin.” And if he was, it was from the accident that kept him from working out after, not from the lack of food that according to his mother, only the women folk could provide.

 

Her dark eyes narrowed, a little smirk playing upon her lips. “That didn’t really answer the first question.”

 

Before he could get a word out to shut the subject down, a knock on the door put him on edge. The pretty nurse who’d flirted with him when he’d arrived poked her head in. “Miss Lowman, you have more visitors. Is that okay?”

 

“Oh my.” Carina grinned. “I’m popular today.”

 

“That you are.” The nurse stepped aside and a bouquet of followers with legs walked in.

 

Emily entered two steps behind, and made eye contact with Happy. “Oh shit.”

 

Indiana froze with the bouquet. “Oh shit? _Oh shit,_ he’s here, isn’t he?”

 

“You know what?” Emily took a step back, nervous laughter bubbling up. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

 

“Em? Em?” The door shut. “Traitor,” Indiana hissed.

 

Happy took the flowers, and put them on the little night stand, before turning back to Indiana who stood with a nervous grin as she fidgeted with the hem of her black Jack Daniel’s t-shirt. She then completely redirected her attention to Carina. “Hello, Carina.”

 

“Oh, Indiana, you grew up!” Carina clasped her hands together. “You’re so pretty!”

 

It surprised Happy that a girl who grew up in a biker bar would blush at such an innocent comment, but she did. Still, it didn’t stop the flood of anger that had built up. He grabbed her arm and pulled her close. “What did you do?”

  
“Happy Manuel Lowman, you let her go this instant.” Carina’s cold tone caused him to immediately obey, but he remained within her space, and was surprised that she didn’t back down. “What is the matter with you?”

 

“Nothing,” he snapped.

 

“He’s just grumpy,” Indiana said never taking her eyes from him.

 

In that moment, he saw her. Just her. Not Quinn’s kid. Just Indiana. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

 

She had no power to stop the shit-eating grin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

He shook his head at her appalling inability to lie worth a shit to him. “Sure you don’t.” He let it go. For now.

 

Watching her interact with her mother, answering questions about her life, and asking questions of her own made him wish he hadn’t been such an idiot all those years ago. She fit so fucking perfectly into his life, filling a void he’d ignored. When she turned and smiled at him, he had a hard time keeping the angry face on. She reached over and pulled on the corner of his mouth, which made his mother laugh, before he swatted her hand away. The half-smile stayed.


End file.
